


All Over Again

by tricksterity



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types
Genre: Actually Rating WILL Change, D/s undertones, Established Relationship, Everybody Lives, Fix-It, M/M, No Underage Happens!, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Padawan Obi-Wan, Protective Obi-Wan, Rating May Change, Time Travel, but not until anakin is overage, kind of, kind of its confusing to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-13 21:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7986751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricksterity/pseuds/tricksterity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Something deep inside Obi-Wan rejected that thought outright, his very Force-sense screaming out in wrongness at the thought of Anakin Skywalker not at his side. Obi-Wan would know now what to do. He could keep Anakin away from Palpatine, stop that man from ever being elected as Supreme Chancellor, give Anakin the love and support he so desperately needed.</i>
</p><p>Obi-Wan Kenobi is sixteen years old when he collapses in the training salle to the shock of his master, Qui-Gon Jinn. When he wakes up two days later after multiple seizures and flatlining once, he remembers the Clone Wars, remembers Mustafar, remembers being cut in half by the man he loved more than anything in the universe, and he remembers Luke and Leia.</p><p>Now returned back in time, somehow, by the Force, Obi-Wan has the ability to change the course of history and fix his mistakes, to keep Anakin by his side and in the Light and to prevent Sidious from becoming Emperor.</p><p>But as Yoda has always said, the future is constantly in flux. One wrong move from Obi-Wan could tip events so off balance that even he could no longer predict it, and he could lose everything all over again at any moment.</p><p>  <b>TEMPORARILY DISCONTINUED</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Just a few notes before you start reading this: 
> 
> Personally it Fucks Me Up that Obi-Wan is supposed to be 25 in TPM, so I've aged him down by about five years, so he's only around 10~ years older than Anakin. Secondly, in the "canon" events of the past, I maintain that Anakin and Obi-Wan were in a relationship (with Padmé's full knowledge and support) because, guys, this is an Obikin fic. 
> 
> I also wanna shout out to the amazing and absolutely brilliant [flamethrower](http://archiveofourown.org/users/flamethrower/pseuds/flamethrower) and their epic [Re-Entry](http://archiveofourown.org/series/10129) series which inspired this whole thing! Go check it out if you're a QuiObi fan :)
> 
>  **EDIT:** As to why this fic has been temporarily discontinued, everything is explained in the chapter 8 update.

* * *

 

Obi-Wan’s eyes were starting to blur from staring at the screen for too long. He’d been tasked by his master to do some research on the Trailian people for a future assignment, and Master Nu had been incredibly helpful in directing him to the right area of the library. He’d spent the better part of a day in here, though, and he needed to take a break.

 

Getting to his feet, Obi-Wan stretched, and tried to locate where Master Jinn was. He seemed to be somewhere near the sparring halls with Master Windu, and Obi-Wan decided that he’d go and update his master on his progress, and perhaps practise a few of his katas before getting back to his assignment.

 

He passed Quin on his way to the sparring rooms, who pulled a face at him but obediently followed Master Tholme down the halls. Obi-Wan grinned, knowing that the expression on Tholme’s face meant that Quinlan had just done something particularly reckless and was about to get an earful from his master. Obi-Wan’s ears were still ringing from the time that Quin had done a handstand atop a waterfall, fell in, requiring Obi-Wan to rescue him, which failed, and ultimately the two of them had to be rescued by Masters Jinn and Tholme.

 

Inside the sparring rooms, Obi-Wan spotted Qui-Gon and Master Windu observing the younglings’ training time. They were clearly working on form III today, Master Billaba winding through them, giving instruction where needed. Obi-Wan still remembered his training with her, and smiled as he joined Qui-Gon and Master Windu.

 

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon greeted warmly. “How goes the assignment?”

 

“Very well, Master,” Obi-Wan replied. “Though my vision was starting to blur and I thought a walk might do me some good.” Qui-Gon chuckled and placed a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder for a moment before letting it drop. Master Windu nodded his hello to Obi-Wan, who returned the sentiment in kind.

 

“Ah, Padawan Kenobi!” Master Billaba crowed, looking over the heads of the younglings to Obi-Wan with a smile. “It seems like only yesterday you were in here like all of these younglings. Would you care to give a demonstration? If I remember correctly your soresu form is admirable.”

 

Obi-Wan flushed, but with a little push on his back from Qui-Gon, he approached Master Billaba as the younglings excitedly powered down their practise ‘sabers and ran for the sidelines, eager for a demonstration. It had been a while since Obi-Wan had practiced in soresu, as Qui-Gon had been drilling him in djem so for a while, but as he and Master Billaba went through their stretches he found it all coming back to him.

 

“Are you ready, padawan?” she asked with a smile.

 

“As always, Master Billaba,” Obi-Wan replied, settling into form with his lightsaber high by his head, two fingers outstretched before him. He was a mirror image of Master Billaba, and as he made the first move, their spar began in earnest. They kept it simple, needing the younglings to clearly pick up the moves they were being taught, but it was still enough of a challenge that Obi-Wan began to sweat after a few minutes. He would occasionally slip into the fourth form, which brought a grin to Billaba’s face, and Obi-Wan was very glad that he was here instead of still in the library.

 

That was, until his vision began to blur again, but this time it wasn’t just the pages before him but _everything_. He could barely make out Master Billaba, just as a moving shape with a bright green ‘saber travelling quickly towards him.

 

Before her ‘saber could make contact with his own, Obi-Wan’s vision disappeared entirely, and he hit the ground unconscious.

 

\--

 

_“You’re a Jedi? Nice to meet you!”_

_“I call for a vote of no confidence in Chancellor Velorum.”_

_“I haven’t seen her in ten years, Master.”_

_“Lost a planet, Master Obi-Wan has. How embarrassing.”_

_“Oh, c’mon, Obi-Wan, Snips and I could’ve handled it!”_

_“I love you.”_

_“ **I hate you!** ”_

_“He claims to be the property of an Obi-Wan Kenobi. Is he a relative of yours?”_

_“I want to learn the ways of the Force and become a Jedi like my father.”_

_“We meet again, at last. The circle is now complete.”_

_“Why didn’t you tell me that Darth Vader was my father?”_

_“Hey, Master. Long time, no see.”_

 

\--

 

His body felt heavy, like his bones had been replaced with boulders, and there was an annoying and repetitive beeping sound in the distance. Frustrated, Obi-Wan tried to open his eyes, but it felt like they had been sealed shut, like his lashes had turned to durasteel, weighing them down.

 

“..bi-Wan? Pa.. awan! Ca.. –u hear me?” a familiar and deep voice was calling, as though from underwater and at a great distance. “Padawan?”

 

Who was calling for their padawan? As far as Obi-Wan was concerned, that word had been lost to the universe after the Order had been destroyed. Even Luke had never heard the word before, and he was the last of the Jedi, though hopefully soon to be the first of the new generation.

 

“Waking up, he is,” came a voice so familiar Obi-Wan would’ve been able to construct entire sentences in that voice in his head. But Master Yoda was dead, and so was he, so perhaps this was the afterlife? Then why would it be so difficult to do anything?

 

It seemed like a lifetime before Obi-Wan was able to blink open his eyes, and immediately had to shut them against the light. He groaned, and when he tried again, the light was dimmed somewhat – the blinds had been shut.

 

Immediately Obi-Wan could tell that he had not become one with the Force as the Jedi promised, because he knew the ceiling of the Jedi Temple healing halls far too well to think that he was anywhere else.

 

Getting his hands under him, Obi-Wan pushed himself upright, ignoring the pain and throbbing of his head as he did so. He swayed a little, and hands caught him on his upper arms to keep him from falling back onto the bed. Obi-Wan murmured something that sounded like ‘thank you’, and waited for the world to stop spinning.

 

When he finally managed to blink his eyes open from where he’d shut them against the pain, his heart stopped.

 

“ _Master?_ ” he breathed.

 

“Welcome back, padawan,” Qui-Gon Jinn said with a warm smile, and Obi-Wan nearly collapsed at the shock. Perhaps he really was in the afterlife.

 

“I… what…” Obi-Wan stuttered, quite unable to get his words out, completely floored by the image of his master standing before him. The same long hair, the same dark blue eyes, the same _facial hair_ for kriff’s sake.

 

“Easy, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon soothed. “What do you remember?”

 

 _Too much_. Everything that he wanted to forget. Everything he had thought would disappear once he rejoined the Force in peace.

 

A motion from his left drew Obi-Wan’s gaze to Yoda, who looked just as he remembered from his days in the Order. “Perhaps too complicated, that question is,” Yoda said.

 

“Of course,” Qui-Gon said. “You’re in the halls of healing, Obi-Wan. You were training with Master Billaba, showing the third form to the younglings, when you collapsed. You’ve had multiple seizures in the last two days, and we feared the worst.”

 

“You mean…” Obi-Wan said slowly, gathering his thoughts. “This… I’m… I’m _back?_ ”

 

“Back from where, padawan?” Mace asked, stepping forward from where he’d been standing in the doorway.

 

“From the afterlife, apparently,” Obi-Wan deadpanned. Before the masters could reply, a thought occurred, and Obi-Wan shot his hand up to his right shoulder. Lying there, like it hadn’t been cut off nearly thirty years ago by the hand that was not his master’s, was his padawan braid.

 

Obi-Wan spat out some of the Huttese curses that he’d learned from Anakin over the years, and was rather entertained at how high the masters’ eyebrows raised.

 

“Would you like to expand on what you mean by afterlife, Padawan Kenobi?” Mace asked sternly, crossing his arms over his chest, looking as though he wasn’t sure whether he should be amused or giving Obi-Wan a good talking to about his language.

 

“I just…” Obi-Wan breathed. “I need a minute to reacquaint myself. It’s been a while.”

 

“Take all the time you need, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said kindly, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile at his master. He frantically tried to re-memorize every detail about Qui-Gon’s face; the tone of his skin, the grey of his beard, the way his hair fell and how he just calmly waited for Obi-Wan to drink his fill like a man who had just found an oasis on Tatooine. It had been far too long since Obi-Wan had seen his master, the man who had all but raised him, and he hadn’t realised how many details of his face had been bleached out of his memory after all his years in the harsh desert sun.

 

Obi-Wan took in a deep breath.

 

“How old am I?” he asked, to the shock of the masters.

 

“Sixteen,” Qui-Gon replied. “You turn seventeen in a few months.”

 

So young.

 

Obi-Wan thought it wry, after all this time, that his first thought was of Anakin. He would be five now… a little older than what was normal, but not old enough that he would once again be rejected from the Jedi Order. Maybe they could do it right this time around, if Obi-Wan had truly been given a second chance.

 

Or perhaps Obi-Wan shouldn’t do a thing. Perhaps Anakin would be happier were he not a Jedi, forced to live a lifestyle that conflicted with his very being, where he would not struggle with the Dark Side every minute of the day and ultimately fall.

 

But something deep inside Obi-Wan rejected that thought outright, his very Force-sense screaming out in wrongness at the thought of Anakin Skywalker not at his side. Obi-Wan would know now what to do. He could keep Anakin away from Palpatine, stop that man from ever being elected as Supreme Chancellor, give Anakin the love and support he so desperately needed. Obi-Wan had failed Anakin – they all had – from the moment that the Council had stared down at a scared nine-year-old boy with fear in their eyes that seeped into the way they treated him for over a decade.

 

No, Obi-Wan had lived long enough to know by now that Anakin needed support, he needed an outlet, and most of all he needed _love_. The Jedi Code forbade attachment and love, but after all this time, what did Obi-Wan care? To him the Jedi had been dead for twenty years and so had his obedience to a Code that was as stagnant and old-fashioned as the Order themselves. It had been their unbending, strict rules that had caused Anakin’s downfall.

 

There was a reason he didn’t tell Luke about the Code.

 

Something must’ve changed on his face (proving that Obi-Wan’s poker face was not as good as it had been considering the lack of need to regulate his facial expressions while living in a wasteland of a desert), because Qui-Gon frowed a little at whatever he saw.

 

“Are you alright, padawan? Do you need a healer?” he asked.

 

Obi-Wan shook his head, still twirling his padawan braid around his index finger. It wasn’t as long as it had been – he’d only been a few days from turning twenty when it had been cut, after he’d killed Darth Maul and gained the title Sith Killer. He’d always been darkly amused at the fact that he had only achieved such a feat by brushing against the Dark Side in the few moments after Qui-Gon’s death that had sent him spiralling into fury – and power.

 

“I’m… alright,” Obi-Wan replied, feeling the words in his mouth as they left, tasting them like they were a particularly fine wine. It felt foreign to feel that concept leave his lips and be genuine. Not the platitudes of _I’m fine_ he’d delivered throughout his life – to Luke, to the few people on Tatooine who could sense something was not quite right with Old Ben, to his friends and colleagues during the Clone Wars – it was real.

 

Obi-Wan was going to be alright, because if this was real (and the Force was telling him it was), then he had a chance to fix everything that was broken about the future he had lived.

 

“Are you sure?” Mace interjected. “Only moments before you woke up, you went through something… that quite frankly should have left you catatonic. I’ve never seen the likes of it before, but I doubt that anyone would be able to survive it.”

 

Obi-Wan frowned as he looked over to Mace. From what Qui-Gon had told him, he’d simply had a few seizures after passing out during training with Master Billaba (and _kriff_ , just the thought of all the Jedi still being alive and well, the Temple and the Force thrumming with life and _light_ was nearly enough to send Obi-Wan to his knees in gratitude); nothing to really justify being catatonic.

 

“As far as I’m aware, Master Windu, people have certainly survived seizures before,” Obi-Wan drawled, and Qui-Gon snorted unattractively at the unexpected retort, though he schooled his features again in record time.

 

“That’s not what I was talking about, padawan,” Mace sighed. “What I’m saying is that-“

 

“Not the time, this is,” Yoda suddenly interrupted. Obi-Wan looked over to the Grand Master and couldn’t help but smile; throughout all his years both within the Jedi Order and after it’s destruction, Yoda had always remained his friend and ally within the Force. Yoda always seemed to know exactly what Obi-Wan was thinking and what he needed, even when he’d been a padawan. Even now when he was a padawan again.

 

“Master?” Mace asked Yoda, curious. The Grand Master jumped off his perch from atop the chair and crossed the room to Obi-Wan, who obediently slid off the bed and landed on his knees so that he would not be towering over the shorter Jedi. He smiled gently at Yoda, who was staring at Obi-Wan with his ever-familiar piercing gaze that padawans and younglings alike were terrified of. But for Obi-Wan, he simply let down his shields and allowed the Jedi to read everything from within him.

 

Master Yoda let out a satisfied grunt after a few moments.

 

“Been through much, Obi-Wan has,” he concluded. “Needs rest, food, and to speak to his master, he does. Tomorrow, talk to the Council you will. Explain what you have seen.”

 

“Yes, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan replied obediently. He wasn’t sure how much he could tell the Council, or if they’d even believe him, but he would do his best to convince the Council to trust in him. But in the meantime… Yoda was right. He needed food, he needed sleep, he needed to reacquaint himself with the Temple, but more than that, he needed to speak to Qui-Gon.

 

Yoda and Mace left the room, leaving Obi-Wan kneeling on the floor next to his master, who had crossed his legs and sat down next to him. Quiet, and giving all the time he needed, Qui-Gon allowed Obi-Wan to collect his thoughts and the motivation to haul himself up onto shaky legs.

 

Eventually, he did, and Qui-Gon helped him up with a gentle hand around Obi-Wan’s upper arm. Thanking his master, Obi-Wan sat back on the bed, thinking about what he should do next.

 

“I’ve never seen you so deep in thought, padawan,” Qui-Gon jested, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped him.

 

“I have a lot to think about, Master,” he replied. “And I’m sure that you’re eager for answers.”

 

“Eager, but I can wait as long as you need, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said kindly, and Obi-Wan only held back his tears with the sheer force of his own will. How long had it been since someone had spoken kind words to him, since someone had looked out for him? How long had it been since he could let someone else take on the weight of the entire galaxy on their shoulders? Well over two decades, it would seem.

 

He steadied himself by taking in a deep and shaky breath. With his exhale through pursed lips, he began to release his feelings into the Force by recognising each of them, accepting them, and letting them go. The first and most overwhelming of which was confusion – after he had rested, he would get answers he needed. Then fear followed, fear of what would happen if none of this was real; fear that if it _was_ real, what he could change? Fear that he would not be able to alter the outcome of this life.

 

Then, anger. So much anger than Obi-Wan feared it would overwhelm him, anger at himself, the Jedi Order, at Anakin, and the Force for putting him through so much only to dump him back here. The kind of anger that pulsed dark and tempting at the corners of his vision, that threatened to wrap him up in it’s embrace and keep him forever. On the next exhale, Obi-Wan released it, and filled himself up with the light of the Force and his positive emotions.

 

Hope. Hope that he would be able to save everyone that had been lost.

 

Happiness. Unadulterated _joy_ that he was back home.

 

Love. Love so strong that he felt it would seep out of his very pores and be absorbed into everything around him, into everyone around him. Love for Qui-Gon, his master, love for the Jedi Order, love for Luke and Leia who had yet to be born, love for Padmé who would not yet be queen… and love for Anakin, who was a shining beacon on the other side of the galaxy.

 

By the time Obi-Wan opened his eyes, he had centered himself the way he had kept himself sane for the past two decades alone in the desert. He had dug his fingers into Tatooine’s sand and filled himself with whatever love he could find within what was left of himself and released his negative emotions for the sake of Luke and Leia. But now… he had so much more to live for. He had _everything_ to live for.

 

“Impressive, padawan,” Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan looked over to see his master trying to keep his face relatively blank. It had been years since Obi-Wan had been face-to-face with his master, but he knew the man who helped raise him almost better than he knew himself.

 

“Really?” Obi-Wan asked, a little confused.

 

“You have always been strong with the Force and competent in meditation, but never have you balanced yourself so quickly and efficiently before,” Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan smiled. He really hadn’t been too good at centering himself when he was a padawan, and had always admired his master who could meditate anywhere for any amount of time. Sometimes Qui-Gon would go to the gardens of the Temple and stay for hours, breathing and uniting himself with the Living Force, and other times it took him only seconds to find his inner peace; for example, when he was cut off from both his padawan and his enemy by energy barriers – Qui-Gon could always find time for meditation.

 

“Perhaps your lessons have finally paid off, Master,” Obi-Wan jested. Qui-Gon didn’t bother hiding the amused twist of his lips.

 

“I’m sure that’s what it is,” he replied. “We should have the healers perform a cursory check on you and see if they are willing to release you. The food in our quarters will be far better than what you can hope to have here.”

 

Obi-Wan laughed. “Don’t I know it.”

 

A healer he didn’t recognise was summoned into the room, and after a few more moments of testing, he was pronounced physically fine. Obi-Wan assured the healer that if he had any problems he would return immediately, and it was probably the first time in his life he had ever genuinely meant those words.

 

Reluctantly on the healer’s part, he was discharged, and Obi-Wan followed Qui-Gon back to their quarters. Obi-Wan couldn’t quite keep his awe off his face nor the tears from his eyes as he passed through the Jedi Temple that was once again whole, filled with his family, and not soaked through with the emotional residue of death and betrayal. Obi-Wan had risked returning to the Jedi Temple only once, to leave a message for any Jedi that had by chance survived the massacre, and had emptied his stomach multiple times at the aura that permeated the place.

 

Obi-Wan recognised that Qui-Gon was confused and concerned at Obi-Wan’s reaction to the Temple, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care enough to tamp down his reactions. He was _home_ , something he had dreamed about for years. It had been far too long since he’d been anywhere that was the desert wastes of Tatooine or Han Solo’s rustbucket of a ship that Obi-Wan had known upon sight that Anakin would have adored.

 

 _Anakin_.

 

Obi-Wan stumbled over the threshold into he and Qui-Gon’s quarters, the rooms that looked identical to the ones that housed himself and Anakin, with only a few slight differences.

 

 _Anakin is alive_.

 

Logically, Obi-Wan had realised that since the moment he had awoken and realised where he was, and he already had at least ten half-formed plans about what to do with the boy. But it wasn’t until now that he realised the implications and the reality of it.

 

 _Anakin is **alive**_.

 

“Are you alright, padawan? Do you need the healers?” Qui-Gon asked, catching Obi-Wan from where he stumbled a little.

 

Obi-Wan didn’t even try to hold back the tears that welled in his eyes or the smile that crept on his face. He felt both like sinking to the floor in confused despair, throwing something against a wall, and like he had never been happier in his life since he’d cut Anakin’s braid.

 

“Fine, Qui-Gon,” he replied. “Just overwhelmed.”

 

With narrowed eyes and a suspicious expression, Qui-Gon reluctantly released him, and headed into the kitchen where he set about reheating a curry. Obi-Wan’s stomach rumbled, and he tasked himself with refamiliarising himself with the quarters around him, picking up objects of Qui-Gon’s and running his fingers along the plants that Qui-Gon may or may not have stolen from the gardens. He pretended not to notice Qui-Gon’s eyes on him the whole time he did this, and when he pressed his hands to the glass to stare out at Coruscant below them without the colours of the Empire superimposed upon it all.

 

He took the bowl of curry silently from where Qui-Gon passed it to him and had to try not to cry when he took one bite and was hit with such a feeling of homesickness that he thought he might throw up or pass out. Damn, his emotions were a mess, and he’d meditated not even fifteen minutes before.

 

“Obi-Wan…” Qui-Gon murmured quietly from his position on their sofa. Obi-Wan joined him, sitting on the other end with his legs curled up beneath him. He could sense through the master-padawan bond they still had (and, kriff, losing that bond last time had been so sudden and shocking that Obi-Wan was rather surprised that he _hadn’t_ fallen to the Dark Side) that Qui-Gon could barely hold back his curiosity and concern, but was trying to put Obi-Wan first. Obi-Wan smiled as he shoveled another bite of curry into his mouth – it was brilliant after so long eating what he could on Tatooine.

 

“I don’t have all the answers about what happened to me, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said. “I wish I did, and to be honest, I’m still trying to process that all of this is _real_. I’m terrified to think that it isn’t.”

 

“What did you mean when you said the last thing you remembered was the afterlife, padawan?” Qui-Gon asked, putting his bowl on the table and dropping any pretense of being only slightly curious. Qui-Gon was hungry for answers as to what happened, and Obi-Wan would try and answer them to the best of his ability.

 

Quickly finishing his curry, Obi-Wan placed his bowl on the table next to Qui-Gon’s, and subconsciously began to twist his padawan braid around his fingers, a familiar gesture that he’d often done his first time around.

 

“I mean that I remember being dead, Master,” Obi-Wan replied softly. “What did Mace mean about what I went through before waking up?”

 

A flurry of emotions shifted over Qui-Gon’s face faster than Obi-Wan could identify, and the Jedi eventually settled on something forlorn. “Obi-Wan, how do you feel? Not physically, but… mentally?”

 

Obi-Wan frowned. “Fine. Better than I have felt in a very long time. Why?”

 

Qui-Gon took a deep breath in to center himself, and Obi-Wan instinctively readied himself for whatever bomb Qui-Gon was about to drop.

 

“When you collapsed in the training salle, I reached out to your mind to try and figure out what had happened,” Qui-Gon confessed. “I was… unable to tear myself away once I touched your mind. The healers were unsure as to what it was, and it was unlike any vision I have ever heard described. I can barely make sense of what I saw, only that there was fire and smoke and pain.”

 

“Oh,” Obi-Wan breathed.

 

“Master Yoda came to visit you today, because the healers could find no reason as to why you had been unconscious for two days. As you know, Master Yoda is far more proficient in matters relating to Force visions than I,” Qui-Gon continued. “He could not confirm whether it was a vision that had taken you, but told Mace and I that all he could sense was agony and the Dark Side. Then…”

 

Qui-Gon trailed off, pain flashing through their bond, and Obi-Wan reached forward to gently grab a hold of his master’s wrist. “What happened, Master?”

 

His master looked up from where he had suddenly looked away, and Obi-Wan was taken aback by the sheer emotion in the man’s eyes.

 

“Your soul shattered, Obi-Wan,” he whispered.

 

For a few moments, Obi-Wan’s mind went blank.

 

“Oh,” was all he seemed to be able to say. Then without warning a laugh bubbled up within his chest, and he couldn’t quite stop it from escaping. Obi-Wan smothered the laughter after a few moments and squeezed Qui-Gon’s wrist in reassurance.

 

“It’s alright, Qui-Gon,” he replied softly and a little defeatedly. “It’s been like that for quite some time now.”

 

Qui-Gon flinched at Obi-Wan’s gentle and calm assurance that he’d been broken for a while, and Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon’s mind whirring away, desperately seeking solutions and reasons but finding none. Taking pity on his overwhelmed and confused master, Obi-Wan smiled gently.

 

“I suppose what I went through could be classed as a vision, Qui-Gon,” he began, his words settling Qui-Gon’s rapid thought processes. “Though I doubt that visions are actually like that. If they are, I feel sorry for those who have them on the regular.”

 

Qui-Gon huffed a small laugh through his nose at Obi-Wan’s attempt at humour.

 

“What I am going to say is probably something you will struggle to understand or believe,” Obi-Wan continued. “All I ask is that you do listen, and let the Force tell you whether my words are true or not.”

 

“Alright, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon acquiesced.

 

“To answer your first question, the reason the last thing I remember was the afterlife is because that is true. I very vividly remember being sliced in half by a lightsaber, and dying,” Obi-Wan confessed. Qui-Gon went slightly pale and opened his mouth to speak, but Obi-Wan gently squeezed the man’s wrist, reminding him to let Obi-Wan speak. Qui-Gon settled again, but was nowhere near as calm as he had been earlier.

 

“What I remember, is that in what seemed like two days for you, I lived my entire life. It was not a vision, but the Force at work. The future I lived in was bleak, devoid of the Order entirely, and filled with the Dark Side,” Obi-Wan said. “I think this is what Master Yoda must have sensed when he touched my mind. I have lived fifty-three years, Qui-Gon, and I have not seen you in nearly thirty.”

 

Obi-Wan gripped Qui-Gon’s wrist tighter to prevent the man from jerking it away in shock.

 

“Obi-Wan…” his master began, floundering for words, and Obi-Wan held his hand up calmly.

 

“I know you may not believe me, Qui-Gon, but I implore you to hear me out,” Obi-Wan said. “If my words are truly so difficult for you to believe, look at me. See the state of this shattered old soul of mine, and tell me that I am still the sixteen-year-old padawan I appear to be.”

 

Reluctantly, and with great concern, Qui-Gon shut his eyes and reached out to Obi-Wan’s mind through their master-padawan bond. Obi-Wan let down all of his shields, the same as he had done with Master Yoda, and allowed Qui-Gon to see all that there was of what little remained of Obi-Wan Kenobi after that day on Mustafar’s stifling surface.

 

He could feel Qui-Gon getting a sense of who Obi-Wan was now, the Force at his side, the same way that the Jedi would ascertain whether the person they were speaking with was truthful or not, reading their intentions and getting a sense of who they were. Obi-Wan held nothing back as Qui-Gon read his Force signature like a book, sensing all that he was and what he had been through. It was nothing like Qui-Gon being able to see his memories, yet was more in-depth than just getting a basic read on an individual, as Obi-Wan allowed his master to see his broken soul laid bare.

 

Qui-Gon then pulled back with a gasp and a shudder, allowing Obi-Wan to rebuild the shields around his mind. Qui-Gon stared at Obi-Wan with wide eyes and a pale, bloodless face as he physically scanned his padawan as though what he had felt was a lie. Or, perhaps, he was realising that Obi-Wan’s physical form was now the lie.

 

“You… Obi-Wan…” Qui-Gon breathed, “how is this possible?”

 

“The Force works in mysterious ways,” Obi-Wan joked, but it fell flat as Qui-Gon was still in far too much shock. “Honestly, Master, I don’t know. We know just as much as each other about how this came to pass. But all that matters is that it has come to pass, and I have lived my entire life from birth to death, and now I am back here.”

 

“What-“ Qui-Gon cut himself off, taking a few moments to center himself. “What happened to you?”

 

Obi-Wan smiled weakly, knowing what Qui-Gon was referring to.

 

“I can’t tell you all of it, Master,” he replied. “But what I can tell you is that the man that I loved more than life itself was lost to me, and in one fell swoop, the both of us died and became something else.”

 

Obi-Wan felt no shame nor regret in telling Qui-Gon of his feelings for Anakin. He had lived long enough to know that loving another was not a weakness, was not a danger, and that if he could he would announce to the Jedi Council and the Order at large that he had loved Anakin Skywalker until his dying breath; and that he was not any less of a Jedi because of that.

 

Qui-Gon was blatantly shocked at Obi-Wan’s words, but did not recoil the way that many of the other masters would have done. Qui-Gon subscribed to the Gray Jedi belief and philosophy more than the traditional Code, and many on the Council disagreed with many of his actions and beliefs on the regular.

 

It took many moments for Qui-Gon to process Obi-Wan’s words, and he let his master take as long as he needed, the same way that Qui-Gon had given him enough time to come to terms with where he was. Finally, Qui-Gon spoke just a single word.

 

“How?” he asked.

 

Obi-Wan smiled self-depricatingly. “Isn’t that the question?” He sighed and looked out the window for a few moments.

 

“He was my padawan,” Obi-Wan said. “You and I found him on Tatooine when he was nine years old. He was to be your padawan… the Council rejected him for his age, and you told them you would take him on as your learner. You said that I was ready for the trials, only a few days from turning twenty and with a braid far longer than it should have been.

 

“You never cut that braid off for me,” Obi-Wan confessed. “And Anakin was never to be your padawan. You were killed in a battle only a few days later on Naboo when a Sith apprentice named Maul stabbed you through the chest.”

 

He didn’t even notice how tightly he had been squeezing Qui-Gon’s wrist until his master gently touched his fingers to the back of Obi-Wan’s hand. Apologetic, Obi-Wan released his grip a little, and took a few moments to breathe.

 

“After your funeral, I was knighted, and I took Anakin on as my padawan. I was more than ready to be a knight, but I was not ready to have an apprentice, though I did my best,” Obi-Wan sighed. “I wanted to make you proud. Your final words had been to ask me to train him, and I couldn’t let either of you down.”

 

Qui-Gon made a small noise at that. “I’m sorry I did that, Obi-Wan. That doesn’t sound right. No nineteen-year-old should take on a padawan.”

 

“It was unorthodox, yes,” Obi-Wan replied. “But you, and the rest of the Council, believed Anakin to be the Chosen One. Concessions were made. And in the end, I raised Anakin the best that I could, and the day I cut his braid was the best of my life.”

 

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile at the memory, remembering Anakin’s expression of equal terror and pride as he stood straight-backed before Obi-Wan, ready to become a Jedi Knight. Anakin had been thrilled that he passed the trials, and equally as glad to be able to grow his hair out from the, quite frankly, terrible haircut that human padawans were required to have; Anakin had loved growing out his hair. Obi-Wan had loved it too. Had loved every part of Anakin.

 

“He grew up to be a brilliant Jedi, a fantastic mechanic and pilot, a kind and caring soul, a little reckless and arrogant, but someone I was proud to call my partner,” Obi-Wan smiled. Qui-Gon’s expression softened at this. “We were ‘The Team’, inseparable all throughout the War. But despite how much we lived in close-quarters, how much we relied on each other, I failed Anakin by being too distant. I wasn’t someone he could come to with his thoughts and concerns, and I didn’t realise that I was pushing him away when I thought we were getting closer.

 

“The Sith Lord took advantage of that,” Obi-Wan all but growled. “He groomed Anakin from a young age, became the confidante Anakin could talk to, and before long… he became the one that Anakin would listen to over me. I failed Anakin in so many ways, and I lost him the day I left for Utapau, towards the end of the War. I grasped him by the shoulders and told him how proud I was of him, and how I could not hope to be half the Jedi he was. He was an arrogant but bashful man, Qui-Gon, and he blushed and averted his eyes at my praise.”

 

Obi-Wan paused. “I should have told him that more often, rather than telling him all that he had done wrong.”

 

Reaching forward, Qui-Gon gently wiped away the tear that had tracked down Obi-Wan’s cheek with the pad of his thumb. “What happened next, Obi-Wan?” he asked gently.

 

“That was the last time I ever saw Anakin,” Obi-Wan choked out, unable to keep his voice even now that the tears began to flow, and he could not keep them back even if he wanted to. “Upon my return, Darth Vader had taken his place, and under the Sith Lord’s orders, he wiped out nearly the entire Jedi Order. Even the younglings.”

 

Obi-Wan slapped a shaking hand over his mouth to muffle the sobs that wanted to emerge, and Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan into his arms like he was still this sixteen-year-old padawan he appeared to be. Obi-Wan buried his face into Qui-Gon’s shoulder and tried not to sob.

 

“He said that he hated me,” Obi-Wan whispered, voice shaky and throat closing up. “The boy that I had raised into the man that I had loved in every conceivable way was tempted, and Fell, and he hated me. We fought, Qui-Gon, for what felt like hours upon Mustafar, and it only ended when I removed three of Anakin’s remaining limbs and left him to burn upon the shores of lava. And then twenty years later he sliced me in half.”

 

Qui-Gon said nothing, as no words could have consoled Obi-Wan at this time, and instead his master just raised his arms to pull Obi-Wan further in, resting one of his palms gently on the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck. There, he gently ran his thumb back-and-forth through Obi-Wan’s hairline, and despite that fact that Obi-Wan did not remember his parents nor had he truly had them, he thought that this would be what having a father would be like.

 

Qui-Gon held him until his body stopped shaking and Obi-Wan was able to deepen his breathing, beginning to release his emotions into the Force, decades of pent-up and ignored emotions finally being acknowledged and dealt with. Obi-Wan pulled back reluctantly from Qui-Gon’s arms with a tear-stained face and red eyes, but calmer and more at peace than he had felt in years. Living on Tatooine, he’d often submerged himself in the Force, allowing it to flow through him like his physical form simply melted away, and despite the way that it calmed and reassured him, he had never been able to reconcile himself from the inside out.

 

Until now. Perhaps now Obi-Wan could truly begin healing.

 

“What are you going to tell the Council tomorrow?” Qui-Gon then quietly asked. With those words Qui-Gon confirmed that he would respect Obi-Wan’s secrecy and privacy, and that if he chose to completely lie to the Council tomorrow, he would not betray Obi-Wan’s trust. That meant more to Obi-Wan than he could put into words, and he squeezed Qui-Gon’s hands gratefully.

 

“I can’t tell them everything,” Obi-Wan said, letting go of his emotion and allowing his brain to come back online, thinking through the precarious and delicate knife-edge situation he now found himself in. “Even if they did believe me, I don’t want to risk ruining anything this time around. If I remember anything from my Temporal Chronology Theory classes, it is that I know only one possible future, and changing things too much could lead us all into a future I cannot predict and could potentially be worse than the one I lived in.” Though how anything could be _worse_ , Obi-Wan wasn’t sure.

 

“Of course,” Qui-Gon replied, patient and ever the teacher, never giving Obi-Wan the answers but allowing him to come to his own conclusions. “But will you tell them some things?”

 

“I have to, don’t I?” Obi-Wan sighed. “Despite the fact that I all but promised Master Yoda. I need to convince them enough so that if in the future I tell them that a certain event or action is critical and must either be taken or avoided, they will listen to me.”

 

Qui-Gon reached forward and used his thumbs to wipe away the tear tracks from Obi-Wan’s face, and gently cradled Obi-Wan’s skull in his palms. “You know that I will support you through all of this, Obi-Wan, no matter what you tell them,” he said with kind eyes. Obi-Wan felt the ridiculous urge to cry again.

 

“I know, Qui-Gon,” he smiled. “I’ll figure something out tonight, don’t worry. I’ll be ready for them tomorrow.”

 

“Very good, padawan,” Qui-Gon praised, before freezing a little in place. “Though I suppose that isn’t quite an accurate term for you any more.”

 

Obi-Wan laughed. “I actually have missed it, Master,” he replied.

 

He and Qui-Gon picked up their dinner dishes and put them away, sharing in a comfortable silence together. Obi-Wan couldn’t resist pulling Qui-Gon into a hug before the two of them parted ways to sleep, and his old master (who was technically around the same age as Obi-Wan) just smiled and allowed it.

 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Obi-Wan continues to fuck with the Council and Qui-Gon is inordinately pleased about it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone's love and support! It means so much to me, and I hope you continue to read this :) A big shout out to my fans who made it over here from Emrys Ascending as well, it's good to see ya'll stick by me throughout the fandoms.

* * *

 

It had been years since Obi-Wan had needed a full nights rest, and so after only a few hours, he woke himself up and kneeled down on the cool balcony tiles to await the sunrise, and sank into a deep meditation.

 

Through the Force, Obi-Wan could sense that he was at a juncture of many infinite and possible futures. What he told the High Council today, and what he did after that, would have repercussions for the rest of the galaxy. Obi-Wan allowed the Force to carry him where it willed, opened himself fully to it, and it let him see the glowing sun on Tatooine that was Anakin Skywalker, five years old, slave and future podracer. It directed him to the gaping absent shadows that hid both Darth Maul and Darth Sidious. It showed him the individual shining lights of the Clones, hidden away on Kamino. The strong, unwavering soul of Padmé Naberrie, not yet Amidala.

 

Obi-Wan understood that each and every one of these souls was cradled in his hands for him to do with whatever he desired, and the Force had given this galaxy to him.

 

The weight of so many lives would have crushed Obi-Wan before, but not now. He was used to it resting upon his shoulders, only now it felt less like a burden suddenly thrust upon him and more of a responsibility entrusted to him, and only him. And it was a duty that Obi-Wan would see through to the end.

 

By the time Obi-Wan opened his eyes, the sun was rising on the Coruscant horizon, and Qui-Gon had silently kneeled down next to Obi-Wan, watching it with him.

 

“I did not believe that such deep communion with the Force existed outside of death,” Qui-Gon admitted quietly into the warming dawn air.

 

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched up. “The Shaman was technically right,” he said to Qui-Gon’s utter shock, remembering how it had been Qui-Gon himself who had taught Obi-Wan the secrets of the afterlife. “But technically, I have died, and I have held my spirit back once from the boundaries of the Cosmic Force. I remain tethered to the Living Force, but I can still touch that which we all pass into.”

 

Shaking his head in exasperation and awe, Qui-Gon said nothing, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips. The two of them watched the sun rise fully into the sky in silence, before they got to their feet in synchronisation and headed into the kitchen for breakfast. It wasn’t a particularly eventful breakfast, just oats with fruit, but Obi-Wan was once again hit with the feeling of homesickness, despite the fact the place he yearned for was the very one he was in.

 

They were both commed when the rest of the Council had convened and asked for them. Obi-Wan quickly dressed, hooking his lightsaber onto his belt. It was a surprise to hold it, considering that he’d had two lightsabers since, and decided not to mention that particular fact to Qui-Gon, who would certainly disapprove. _Your lightsaber is your life_ , he’d told Obi-Wan many times, and he had in turn passed that onto Anakin, who took heed of it as much as Obi-Wan apparently had.

 

He probably shouldn’t tell Qui-Gon about the number of robes he’d gone through, either.

 

The Temple was no less overwhelming on the walk to the Council chambers, and Obi-Wan laughed joyously at Quinlan’s despondent expression as he trailed behind Master Tholme, carrying armfuls of heavy tomes.

 

Neither Obi-Wan nor Qui-Gon hesitated at the doors to the High Council chambers, and strode in side-by-side. Qui-Gon stood proudly next to Obi-Wan, and warmth and gratitude blossomed in Obi-Wan’s chest so strongly he was sure that Qui-Gon was able to sense it.

 

Obi-Wan looked around at familiar faces from so long past, staring up at him like it was just another day. Like they hadn’t all been dead for years and Obi-Wan had forgotten how most of them looked, how kind Micah Giett's smile was, how piercing Adi Gallia’s eyes were against her darker skin.

 

Obi-Wan bowed respectfully to the council, and they all nodded their heads in turn.

 

“How are you feeling, Padawan Kenobi?” Depa asked, a thread of concern manifesting in her voice.

 

“I’m doing well, Master Billaba, thank you,” Obi-Wan replied. “I’ve heard that it was a little touch-and-go while I was unconscious from Master Windu, but I have recovered fully from the seizures.”

 

“And the vision?” Mace piped up.

 

“Ah,” Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke. “I was wondering why all of the High Council had been convened. An important vision would most certainly explain it, though I was not aware that you were susceptible to Force visions, Padawan Kenobi.”

 

Obi-Wan smiled at the not-so-subtle question in Ki-Adi’s statement. “To answer your question, Master Mundi, I am not. The gift of foresight has never been mine,” he replied. The master in question raised a brow.

 

“A vision, young Obi-Wan was not caught in,” Yoda suddenly spoke up, quiet but respected enough that everyone turned to him. “But something similar, yes. Something far more complex.”

 

He had the feeling that Yoda knew that Obi-Wan was inwardly not the age that he appeared, but to a being that was nearly nine-hundred years old, a few decades probably would not mean much. Even when Obi-Wan had become old and greying, Yoda still insisted on referring to him as _young Obi-Wan_.

 

“Master Yoda is right,” Obi-Wan said, preparing himself with a deep breath. “What I went through is something I still do not fully understand, nor do I believe that I ever shall. For what to the rest of you seemed like only two days, for me it was nearly forty years.”

 

The Council Chambers were deadly silent as the Jedi in the room contemplated and processed what Obi-Wan said. “I can tell you now that with complete certainty that I have lived out the entirety of my life, and I can recall with absolute clarity the means and moment of my death and what happened after,” Obi-Wan continued. “I remember the future that we are rapidly spiralling towards, and what I lived through all but destroyed me. Nevertheless, I lived through it, and for whatever reason the Force wishes of me, it has returned me back to here so that I may change it. At least, that is what I believe.”

 

If the chambers had been silent at Obi-Wan’s earlier announcement, it was even more so now. It was so silent that it seemed as though the very particles that made up everything stopped vibrating, that they had reached absolute zero within the vacuum of space. A few of the masters’ eyes flickered to Qui-Gon as if for reassurance that Obi-Wan had gone completely crazy, but Qui-Gon just drew himself up to his full height and stood proudly beside him.

 

Obi-Wan didn’t need Qui-Gon to back him up, considering that he had proof in the form of his Force signature, his greater repertoire of knowledge and his skills as the Negotiator, but something in his chest tugged at the sign of loyalty.

 

“That’s impossible,” Yarael Poof finally spoke up. “Nothing of the like has ever been recorded in the history of the Jedi or the Sith.”

 

“I will admit, Padawan Kenobi, this is difficult to believe,” Mace said.

 

Qui-Gon took a small step forward. “What Obi-Wan is saying is true, as impossible as it seems,” he said, deep voice immediately obtaining command of the room. “Search your feelings, and through the Force you will know that he is truthful.”

 

“It is possible what he is saying is false though he believes it to be truthful,” Adi Gallia spoke up, tone neutral, ever the voice of devil’s advocate. “Force visions are disorienting and confusing, so I have heard. Padawan Kenobi may believe what he experienced was real.”

 

She didn’t say that to humiliate Obi-Wan nor to disprove his words, but simply to argue another point, and Obi-Wan couldn’t fault her for it. He hadn’t believed Anakin’s many Force visions even though they were well-documented fact simply because they had come to Anakin while he was sleeping, and look where that had gotten them all.

 

“If I may, Master Gallia,” Obi-Wan spoke up. “I do not expect you to believe me by my words alone. As Master Yoda often says… now what is the exact wording? Ah, yes. ‘Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter’.”

 

Yoda let out a chuckle at Obi-Wan’s words and inclined his head in agreement.

 

“You are all blinded by Obi-Wan’s physical appearance,” Qui-Gon said. “Just as I was. If you look at him within the Force, _truly_ look at him, you will see that he is no longer the padawan that we are all familiar with.”

 

At his words, all of the masters turned to look at Obi-Wan, some reluctantly and some curiously. Their gazes focused on him while also fading away, peering into his soul by detaching their vision from the physical before them. Obi-Wan, who had unintentionally been shielding his presence, as had been his defence for well over two decades, opened up his mind to the Council.

 

Some of them gasped aloud at what they saw, others frowned, and a few of the masters began to mutter amongst themselves. Obi-Wan couldn’t even begin to imagine what they saw – perhaps a near sixty-year-old man who had been shattered so thoroughly that he could never be put back together again. A man who had spent twenty years alone in the desert, both longing for and despising the bond he still had with his ex-padawan, that pulsed and writhed with every one of Darth Vader’s familiar yet completely strange emotions.

 

Micah Giett looked visibly horrified when he focused back on the reality around him. “How are you still alive, Obi-Wan?” he breathed.

 

The smile on Obi-Wan’s face was sad and forced. “Some days I did not believe I was, anymore. As much as I wished that I could simply fade into the Force, I had a duty to two very young children, and I could not leave them on their own to fight against the darkness that had taken over the galaxy,” he replied.

 

“Your soul, Obi-Wan…” Sifo-Dyas spoke. “It is…”

 

“Shattered,” Obi-Wan finished for her. “I am well aware.”

 

“But healing, it is,” Yoda interrupted with a mischievous sparkle in his eye that reminded Obi-Wan of his days on Dagobah with the old Jedi. “Already now you are more whole than yesterday. Your talk with Qui-Gon went well, hmm?”

 

“Apparently so,” Obi-Wan replied, dumbfounded.

 

“So what you are telling us, Padawan Kenobi,” Mace said, voice echoing throughout the room, “is that you are, essentially, from the future?”

 

Obi-Wan’s lips twisted up into a wry grin. “I suppose that is an accurate conclusion that could be drawn, Mace.”

 

“And you said that the Force brought you back here in order to prevent or change the future that you lived in?” Plo Koon asked with great interest, leaning forward in his seat. “What is this future that so desperately needs to be changed that the Force would defy time itself to bring you here?”

 

Pursing his lips a little, Obi-Wan looked over at Qui-Gon for a quick confirmation that whatever he said, Qui-Gon would not contradict what he said. Qui-Gon gave a barely perceptible nod, and Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak, allowing the infinite futures to unravel before him.

 

“What you must first understand is that I cannot tell you everything,” Obi-Wan began. “I do not wish to turn the present into a future that I cannot control nor predict that has the chance of being far worse from the future I lived. Master Yoda has said often enough that the future is always in flux. That being said, I find it difficult to think of a world more terrible than my past, if the state of my soul has anything to say about it.

 

“What I can tell you is that the Sith are not as weak and forgotten as the Order thought they were. Even now, I sense that the Sith Lord and his apprentice are putting their plans into action. There is a great war ahead of us, and in my future… we lost,” Obi-Wan admitted.

 

Obi-Wan stopped here, unable to speak as his throat swelled up and stopped his voice from escaping as he remembered the night he returned to Coruscant. The night that he’d pushed himself and his ship to the limits as he sped back home, frantic and worried that Anakin had been caught up in the fighting, that he could be injured or dead or dying, that Obi-Wan would be too late to save him.

 

And then he’d returned only to find that it had been Anakin who had done the killing, and Obi-Wan truly had been too late. He still, to this day, did not know how Palpatine went about turning Anakin. When Obi-Wan had left for Utapau, he had pressed a gentle kiss to Anakin’s lips and a promise to return as quickly as he could. When he had returned, Darth Vader was ready to destroy him.

 

He was snapped back to the present by Qui-Gon’s gentle hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, halting the thrum of swirling confusion and despair within Obi-Wan. Gratefully, Obi-Wan used Qui-Gon’s touch to release his emotions into the Force so he could continue on.

 

“The Sith? They are returning?” Plo Koon asked, sitting forward in his chair.

 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replied. “One Sith Lord and an apprentice, with two more to follow when the first dies. I fear what will happen if I divulge any names to you, so I will keep that information to myself for the moment.”

 

“But if you told us now, could we not simply arrest them now before this war of yours happens?” Eeth Koth asked.

 

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Arresting them without evidence would never be accepted by the people,” he said. “And either way, arresting them would not work. They are simply too powerful.”

 

“Are you suggesting we _kill_ them, Padawan Kenobi?” Mace asked, eyebrows raised.

 

“I’m not suggesting we do anything, Mace,” he replied. “I simply ask that you trust me enough to listen to my counsel.”

 

He and Mace had been quite close after Obi-Wan had been given the rank of Jedi Master, especially throughout the War when they both sat on the Council together. Every now and then they had fought together, and though Mace had refused to teach Obi-Wan the vapaad, a technique he only entrusted to his ex-padawan Deepa, Obi-Wan had fought with him enough to understand the basics. He had seen it used in combination with the niman form in his fight with Darth Maul, and the only way to truly master the form was to walk the thin line between the dark and light sides of the Force.

 

Obi-Wan had used much of his time on Tatooine meditating on his memories of Mace and Maul, teaching himself the near-forbidden seventh form. He had never mastered it, but he thought that perhaps he could stand on his own against Mace for a few minutes using it.

 

Vapaad aside, Mace Windu had always trusted Obi-Wan’s judgement and counsel. Obi-Wan could only hope that this younger version of him would do the same.

 

“How can we trust, even if what you are saying is true, despite the change to your Force signature, that you will be able to keep this future of yours from happening?” Mace asked.

 

“Because I was at the center of it the entire time,” Obi-Wan replied. “The only way I could’ve been more involved is if I were the Sith Lord himself,” he joked. “If I’d only known I was so close at the time, I could have prevented it from occurring. I have that chance now.”

 

There was silence in the room as the Council thought upon Obi-Wan’s words.

 

“Meditate on this, we must,” Yoda finally spoke up after a minute. “Search the Force to find it’s intentions, we shall.”

 

Obi-Wan bowed his head. “Of course, Master Yoda. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

 

The Council fell silent in a way that Obi-Wan was very familiar with, having been on both the receiving and giving end of the particular silence – the silence that said the meeting was over and he and Qui-Gon were to leave. With another bow to the Council, Obi-Wan turned to leave, only for Qui-Gon to grasp the sleeve of his robe gently to stop him from doing so.

 

“Master?” he asked, looking up at Qui-Gon, who seemed to be having a stare-off with Yoda.

 

“Councilors, I have a request,” he announced, continuing to stare at Yoda. “As Obi-Wan’s master, I believe it is my duty to inform you when I feel that my padawan is ready to take the Trials and be knighted. That time is now.”

 

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows raised up in surprise as many members of the Council spoke out in shock at Qui-Gon’s words, though Obi-Wan’s master remained firm and unmoving on his stance. Obi-Wan turned around to look at the Council, and out of all of them, Yoda and Mace seemed to be having a silent conversation with each other. The rest were arguing.

 

“Never has a padawan been knighted at sixteen!” Yarael argued. “It would be inconceivable to do so.”

 

“As previously established, Master Poof, Obi-Wan is far older than sixteen,” Qui-Gon replied. “In fact, I have no doubt that Obi-Wan has already attained the rank of Jedi Master.”

 

Obi-Wan didn’t let the shock he felt show on his face. Qui-Gon either deduced that as of Obi-Wan’s retelling last night that he’d been given the rank of Master after Anakin was knighted, or he believed that Obi-Wan’s Force ability was now equal to his own. Either possibility was probable, and Obi-Wan’s chest filled up with warmth at the trust and belief his master had in him.

 

“If Obi-Wan is the age he says, the Trials he has already taken, then?” Yoda asked, shrewd gaze sliding over to Obi-Wan.

 

“No, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan replied. “I never took the Trials. It was deemed that my killing of the Sith apprentice was trial enough.”

 

“You killed a Sith?” Plo Koon asked, sounding incredibly impressed. Obi-Wan blamed the fact that he was back in a sixteen-year-old body that he blushed and ducked his head at the praise.

 

“Only the apprentice, Masters,” Obi-Wan said.

 

“That would still have made you the first Sith-killer in nearly a thousand years,” Eeth Koth replied, sounding just as impressed as Plo Koon. Obi-Wan held back his internal _if only he’d stayed dead_ , thinking of the whole debacle with Maul and Opress. The room once again fell into contemplative silence, and Obi-Wan remained quiet. Whether he was granted the rank of knight or not, he would leave it to the Council to decide, he could work with either alternative.

 

Qui-Gon then placed a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Perhaps a demonstration of Obi-Wan’s proficiency with the Force will convince the Council to agree with me?” he mused.

 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow but aside from that kept his expression neutral. The Council murmured amongst themselves for a few moments, debating Obi-Wan’s fate. Eventually they fell silent again, and Yoda motioned for Obi-Wan to step forward.

 

He did, wondering just what the Council would expect to see. He had been on the Council himself, but only in war time, and therefore never watched any padawans take the Trials – indeed, most padawans did not take the Trials, and were simply knighted due to feats of bravery in the battlefield. But Obi-Wan had skills that far surpassed that of a newly knighted Jedi, and twenty years experience of honing them in a desert wasteland, plus what he had learned on the battlefield.

 

Obi-Wan then thought back to Qui-Gon’s reaction to his meditations that morning, when Obi-Wan had drifted so close to the Cosmic Force he nearly touched it, becoming as close to the Force as possible without the destruction of one’s physical shell, as had happened in his past.

 

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan lowered himself onto his knees in a meditative pose, one that had become particularly hard for him and his old joints on Tatooine, and opened himself to the Force.

 

When Obi-Wan had been watching over Luke on Tatooine, he had been well aware that Darth Vader had been searching for him even after the Jedi Purge was officially over. His bond with his ex-padawan had remained even though fire, smoke and destruction, and although Vader had been unaware of it, Obi-Wan had always been able to feel the emotions that came through the bond.

 

They had always been stronger whenever Vader had ventured into the quadrant of the galaxy that contained his old homeworld, and Obi-Wan had needed to ensure that Vader did not accidentally track him through their dormant bond. Remembering the words of Qui-Gon’s Force ghost and the techniques Sidious had used to keep himself hidden in the Force as Palpatine, Obi-Wan had constructed his own technique of hiding his presence.

 

Opening himself to the Force entirely, just as he had that morning in he and Qui-Gon’s quarters, Obi-Wan allowed the Force to flow into him, to fill every crevice of him, to blur his edges and touch his consciousness until his Force signature was no longer distinguishable from within the Force. Whilst Sidious and Maul had used the Dark Side to shroud themselves and keep hidden within the darkness, Obi-Wan allowed himself to fall apart like rain into a river, just more drops of water within the cosmic whole.

 

When he opened his eyes, the Council members stared down at him in equal awe and horror as they perceived him in every way, except for their sight, to be dead.

 

Obi-Wan had very little sense of self while he opened himself up like this, making him both the most vulnerable he had ever been and the most protected. Through the Force, he was hidden, and no Force-user would be able to sense him; however maintaining the connection took up all his concentration, and he had to trust the Force to protect him entirely. Like this, he did not care about anything but what the Force cared about, had no personal desires or needs, could stay like this for days at a time with the Force sustaining every single requirement of his physical form. He existed as separately from his body as one could.

 

Looking to Yoda, the old Jedi’s gaze inscrutable, he was given the signal to begin returning to his body.

 

Folding himself back into his physical form and mental shields was always so much more difficult than expanding himself, having to part from the utter peace and surety that came with immersing himself in the Force – it was a glimpse at the truth of existence beyond death, something that made Obi-Wan no longer fear it. But as soon as Obi-Wan was back to himself, death was not a thing he longed nor wished for, as his desires, duty and attachments returned to his conscious mind.

 

Obi-Wan rose swiftly to his feet, taking a step back so he once again stood side-by-side with Qui-Gon Jinn. The room was silent.

  
“Never once have I seen such communion with the Force, Obi-Wan,” Yoda finally spoke up.

 

“I didn’t think it was possible,” Micah breathed. “It was like… you were dead.”

 

“All sense of _you_ vanished into the Force,” Depa said. “I did not think it was possible.”

 

Obi-Wan forced a smile. “Once you spend a long time alone and in hiding, you learn a few things,” he offered as an explanation. “I learned more in my isolation than I did my entire life in the Order.”

 

“A suggestion for us all, is that?” Yoda teased.

 

“Force, no,” Obi-Wan laughed. “I would not wish it upon anyone.”

 

It was at this point that Saesee Tiin finally spoke up. “I think it is clear to all of us that Obi-Wan is most definitely past the rank of padawan. I agree with Qui-Gon, in that we should grant Obi-Wan the rank of knight,” he said.

 

“Agreed,” came Ki-Ad-Mundi. “He has shown skills that I would confidently say that none of us on the Council possess.”

 

“Indeed,” Mace said. Even Yarael Poof was no longer arguing. Glancing around the room, Yoda looked at all the Council members before seeming to come to a decision.

 

“Unanimous, this decision seems to be,” Yoda said. “The Council grants Obi-Wan Kenobi the rank of knight.”

 

All Councilors in the room stood, and Obi-Wan kneeled down once again, with Qui-Gon at his back, as Yoda recited the ancient passages that had been used to knight Jedi for millennia. He then gestured to Qui-Gon, who stepped in front of Obi-Wan, smiling down at him with an unfamiliar bittersweet expression.

 

“I had hoped for your apprenticeship to be longer than this,” Qui-Gon said, igniting his lightsaber.

 

“Just because I won’t be your padawan anymore, Qui-Gon, that doesn’t mean we won’t be seeing each other,” Obi-Wan replied with a smile. “And you never did get to sever my braid, so this is quite the new experience for me.”

 

Giving him a wry look, Qui-Gon ever so gently severed the padawan braid from Obi-Wan’s head, the threads of hair and beads tumbling to the ground. His throat suddenly so swollen it was difficult to breathe, Obi-Wan picked up the braid from where it lay, noting how much shorter it was than his previous one, which had easily reached his sternum.

 

Tradition stated that Obi-Wan was to keep the braid to remind him of his accomplishments, but as he got to his feet, he pressed it into Qui-Gon’s hand with a smile.

 

“I owe this to you, Qui-Gon,” he said, quiet so that none of the other Council members would overhear. Swallowing thickly, Qui-Gon took the braid with a nod, then swiftly deactivated his lightsaber and took his place next to Obi-Wan without a word. Qui-Gon never did like to make a scene. Obi-Wan was loath to admit that Anakin had probably gotten his theatrics and dramatic flair from Obi-Wan himself.

 

The Council remained standing and offered their congratulations. Obi-Wan shook hands with those whom he still considered to be his friends, even after so long after their passing, but soon the Council members all once again got into their seats.

 

“Thank you, masters,” Obi-Wan said, bowing gratefully to them. They were dismissed, and Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon finally left the room, for once in both of their lives, of equal standing.

 

Upon returning to their chambers, which Obi-Wan would insist they keep for the time being, Obi-Wan immediately detoured to the ‘fresher. Qui-Gon followed him, obviously curious, and burst out laughing the second that Obi-Wan took a pair of scissors and cut off the horrendous padawan ponytail.

 

“I am never having long hair again,” he sighed to himself in the mirror.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] The Shaman is in reference to the Shaman of the Whills, where Qui-Gon learned how to retain an eternal consciousness after death (essentially, a Force ghost). He then told this information to Obi-Wan and Yoda.
> 
> Also, Christ, I have no idea which Jedi were on the Council when Obi-Wan was a padawan. I have literally no way of telling age since apparently Jedi age slower than most due to the Force (and considering Obi-Wan was meant to be 25 in TPM and Qui-Gon was meant to be 60), so I'm just guessing here. Let me live, ya'll.
> 
> (edit: shout out to quietshade for letting me know which jedi were on the council, appropriate changes have been mostly made!)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also known as: Mace Windu is done with Obi-Wan Kenobi's backtalk.

* * *

 

It took three days for the Council to summon Obi-Wan again (and by extension, Qui-Gon). By this time near everyone in the Temple had heard that Obi-Wan had been knighted at sixteen, and he had been receiving quite a few mixed reactions from his friends and acquaintances. Quinlan had outright thought Obi-Wan had somehow mind-tricked the entire Council into making him a knight, and there was even a rumor circulating that Obi-Wan had used the Dark side to become more powerful.

 

Upon arriving to the Council Chambers, Obi-Wan noted that although the majority of the Councilors were in attendance, not all of them were. It seemed then that they had come to an agreement that did not require all of them to be there.

 

Yoda, Mace and Ki-Adi-Mundi were there as expected, and the three of them inclined their heads politely to Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon as they entered. Obi-Wan had already comfortably settled back into his role as Jedi Knight, though he swore to himself that this time he wouldn’t let his hair grow out. It was a good look on Anakin, but not so much himself.

 

“Decided, the Council has, to trust you and your judgements,” Yoda informed them with absolutely no preamble. Obi-Wan’s eyebrows lifted a little at the abruptness, but he inclined his head and accepted Yoda’s words.

 

“Thank you, Master,” Obi-Wan replied.

 

“On one condition, however,” Mace said, as though Obi-Wan had expected anything different. “We have meditated on this matter and have decided to trust you for now, Obi-Wan. Your Force signature and ability show that you are no longer the padawan you were only a few days ago. However, we ask for some proof of your knowledge of future events. It does not have to be today, but if you can prove beyond a doubt that you know of the future…”

 

Mace trailed off, allowing the unsaid implications to fill the silence.

 

In response, Obi-Wan stepped away from Qui-Gon’s side and approached Mace. In the arm of his council chair was a hidden panel that was undetectable through all means – including all scanners, and the Force. Only the twelve Council members knew of its existence. On the panel was a series of numbers in many languages, and certain strings of randomly generated numbers would activate different temple defences.

 

Obi-Wan opened the panel and input a twenty-three digit code that he had learned upon being accepted into the Council. The chamber defences activated, and immediately all of the windows were darkened by rapidly-descending durasteel shutters, while an electron wall powerful enough to deflect a lightsaber activated in front of the chamber entrance.

 

After the defences had settled into place, Obi-Wan stepped back next to Qui-Gon and tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robes, awaiting the Council’s decision.

 

The silence was broken by Qui-Gon’s quiet laughter at the expression on Mace’s face.

 

“I’d say that more than proves it, doesn’t it?” he said once he got his laughter under control. Obi-Wan sighed and elbowed his laughing ex-master in the side, which only made Qui-Gon snort again like he was a giggling padawan. Though it appeared a few more of the Council members were struggling to hold in their laughter too – including Yoda.

 

“Yes it does,” Mace finally said after a few moments. “I would have thought that you would have mentioned to us that you were on the Council in your time, Obi-Wan.”

 

Obi-Wan shrugged. “It wasn’t information that you needed to know.”

 

“I think…” Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke up, “that we have no choice but to believe Obi-Wan. If we had trusted him enough to elect him to the Council, we should trust him enough now to believe in him. The Force has shown us this.”

 

Obi-Wan inclined his head towards him in gratitude. Ki-Adi-Mundi had always been very similar in terms of his thinking and tactics as Obi-Wan, and they had gotten on very well during Obi-Wan’s time on the Council.

 

“Agreed,” Micah said. Various sounds of assent echoed throughout the now-deadlocked chamber, and Obi-Wan gave a small sigh of relief as the motion to trust in him seemed to pass unanimously. He hadn’t exactly doubted that the Council would come to believe him, but there had been a shard of doubt and fear lodged in his heart within the past few days that his tale was too far-fetched and that he would have to change everything on his own.

 

Well, perhaps not on his own. Obi-Wan had the strangest feeling that Qui-Gon would have helped him whether the Council approved or not.

 

“The motion passes, then,” Mace said.

 

“Entrust our future to you, we do, Obi-Wan,” Yoda intoned solemnly. Obi-Wan bowed to the Council, thankful that they all had such level heads. Unlike a _certain_ padawan. Well, unlike _two_ certain padawans, really.

 

“In that case, Masters, I have a request to make of you,” Obi-Wan asked.

 

Mace blinked. “Oh?”

 

“Already, Obi-Wan?” Plo Koon teased, steepling his fingers. “What request would you make of us?”

 

“I need to go to Tatooine and retrieve my padawan. Well, future padawan, I suppose. He is currently five years old, which I understand is older than children we normally take, but we have made exceptions for children his age in the past,” Obi-Wan said, gripping his wrists beneath his robe. He could feel Qui-Gon’s stare boring into his face, but he ignored his ex-master, and continued to look placidly at Yoda and Mace.

 

“Your padawan is important to future events?” Yarael Poof asked.

 

“Yes, Masters,” Obi-Wan said. “But even if he were not, he is important to me, and I would ask to bring him home anyway.”

 

Mace, at this point, showed more emotion than he normally did as he raised a single eyebrow and turned to look at Yoda, who was fixing Obi-Wan with a piercing gaze. Obi-Wan didn’t take back his words however. He would no longer hide the way he felt for Anakin Skywalker, even if it meant the Jedi Order asked him to leave. Some things were far more important than an outdated and strict code that had been unchanging for centuries.

 

Something flitted along the bond between he and Qui-Gon, something like a combination of worry and pride.

 

“It is a long way to Tatooine, Knight Kenobi,” Depa said. “But we have decided to trust our future to you. If you say he is important, then you shall go to Tatooine.”

 

Obi-Wan bowed in her direction. “Thank you, though it is not that simple.”

 

“Oh?” Plo Koon asked.

 

“Anakin is a slave, and a valuable one. I will need credits, preferably in the wupiupi currency to free him,” Obi-Wan explained. Hopefully the Council would grant him enough to free Anakin and his mother – Obi-Wan would not be making the mistake of leaving Shmi Skywalker on Tatooine to die again.

 

“Disturbing, this development is,” Yoda mused.

 

Mace pursed his lips. “How much do you think you will need?”

 

“Perhaps eighty or ninety thousand wupiupi,” Obi-Wan replied calmly to the Council’s shock. “Anakin may be young, but he is skilled at languages and mechanical repair, which makes him one of the most valuable kind of slaves on an Outer Rim planet.”

 

“That is far too much money, Knight Kenobi,” Yarael spoke up. “No five-year-old, even if they are to be your padawan, is worth that amount of what little credits the Jedi Order have.”

 

Obi-Wan was tempted for a split second to inform the Council that Anakin’s midichlorian count was well over twenty thousand, that he was the Chosen One, but immediately discarded that idea. The Council had treated the young boy with nothing but fear and disdain from the moment they met him, both unwilling to believe he was the Chosen One yet being fearful of the sheer power and potential Anakin had. That had only seeped into all of their interactions for the next decade, and it was no surprise that Sidious had been able to turn Anakin against the Jedi so quickly.

 

For the Council had never listened to Anakin. When he had screamed for their help, they had always been deaf, so when the devil lent a helping hand, Anakin grabbed it like sacred land.*

 

So no, Obi-Wan was not going to tell the Council about Anakin’s status as the Chosen One. He would have them treat his padawan the way that they treated the rest of them. But that didn’t mean that Obi-Wan didn’t have anything left up his sleeve – he wasn’t the Negotiator for nothing.

 

At the Kaminoan’s words, Obi-Wan smirked wryly. “I was not asking _permission_ for the money nor to retrieve Anakin, Councilors. I was asking for your blessing. Whether you allow me to or not, whether you provide me with credits or not, I shall be going to Tatooine to bring Anakin home. It will simply be easier if the Council helps me with this,” he informed them all quite calmly.

 

At the Council’s stunned reaction to his words, Obi-Wan felt that he was getting rather bored of them being surprised by the things he said and did. It was the same part of him that just wanted to take Anakin and Padmé and whisk them away somewhere hidden, where they didn’t have to worry about the fate of the galaxy, where they could all live in peace and happiness, unburdened by their previous lives.

 

Of course, the biggest part of Obi-Wan, the Jedi in him, knew that if he did so, he would feel even more guilty than he had in his past. Because failing had broken Obi-Wan apart, but not even trying would destroy whatever was left.

 

“I think I preferred you when you were a padawan,” Mace grumbled. “Less backtalk.”

 

“Defy the Council, you would?” Yoda then pressed. “Go against our orders, to retrieve your padawan, would you?”

 

“In any other matters, Masters, I would listen to your recommendations and your guidance. In the matter of Anakin, however, I trust nobody’s judgement but my own,” Obi-Wan replied.

 

“That sounds like an attachment, Obi-Wan,” Depa said, tone disapproving and a little scolding.

 

“I won’t deny it, Depa,” Obi-Wan replied. “I am far too attached to Anakin Skywalker than any one person should be. More than a Jedi should be. But my attachment does not make me weak, and it does not make me question my judgement.”

 

“If it came down to saving this Anakin, and saving the galaxy, would you still be able to make the right choice, Obi-Wan?” Plo Koon asked. “Would you be able to put your feelings for him aside to save billions of lives?”

 

Obi-Wan’s jaw clenched just a little. “Respectfully, Plo, to save the galaxy is to save Anakin, and vice versa. Just as I was in the center of all things, so was Anakin. So were many of us. I would never have to make such a choice. I understand that this is a concerning and disquieting revelation for you all,” Obi-Wan said, stopping to take a deep breath.

 

“You are trusting your future to someone who seemingly cannot follow a basic tenet of the Jedi Code. Without the hindsight I have, I understand that this will give you doubts. However, please trust that I am still trusting reason over my emotions,” Obi-Wan continued. “That does not mean that I will be ashamed over my feelings for Anakin. I learned a long time ago that ignoring my emotions was not the way to save the galaxy.”

 

The Council fell quiet as they deliberated on Obi-Wan’s words, and a strong feeling of _pride_ flitted over the bond between he and Qui-Gon. His master had never gotten on too well with the Council, far more gray than they had ever been comfortable with, and it seemed that Qui-Gon was pleased that Obi-Wan was thinking along similar routes. Obi-Wan had never considered himself to be a Gray Jedi, but thought that perhaps he now was.

 

“We have already entrusted our future to you, Obi-Wan,” Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke up. “You have shown that you are trustworthy enough to have been elected to the Council, and the Force has entrusted a massive undertaking to you, the likes of which we have never seen before. I do not think I am alone in saying that if you believe that your padawan is important enough that you would defy us, then we should trust your judgement.” In response, the Council all murmured replies of agreement.

 

“Grant you permission, the Council does, to retrieve your padawan from Tatooine,” Yoda said. “Also grant you the credits required, we do. But with you, Master Qui-Gon shall go.”

 

Obi-Wan bowed to the Council, grateful that he wouldn’t have to gamble money out of the locals on Tatooine. “Thank you, Masters.”

 

It was a clear dismissal, and he and Qui-Gon turned and left the Council chambers as quickly as they had come in, bar a moment of pause as Mace deactivated the chamber defences. Obi-Wan could not quite hide the smirk that slipped onto his face at the success of his mission so far, and Qui-Gon rolled his eyes and elbowed Obi-Wan in the side.

 

“Stop looking so smug, Obi-Wan,” he chastised.

 

“I will when you do,” Obi-Wan shot back, well aware of the looks Qui-Gon had been giving the Council back there.

 

It didn’t take too long for the Council to secure a ship with hyperdrive for them to take to Tatooine, and a terrified padawan that had obviously been told that their delivery was _very_ important passed a rattling box into Obi-Wan’s arms with shaking hands. Thanking the padawan, Obi-Wan opened it to reveal the money that he had asked from the Council.

 

“Seems awfully efficient of them,” he mused to Qui-Gon.

 

“You should know by now, Obi-Wan, that whenever the Jedi Council want something done, it gets done,” he replied, and Obi-Wan scoffed.

 

“Not in my day,” he shot back. “They spent far too much time worrying about what the Senate thought and political ramifications of each individual action. Though I suppose that is but one aspect of war.”

 

The ship’s ramp lowered then, and Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon climbed aboard with their box of Outer Rim currency and supplies they would need for the trip, but little else. Obi-Wan settled in automatically into the pilot’s seat after placing their things away, leaving Qui-Gon to take the co-pilot’s chair.

 

“You fly?” Qui-Gon asked as Obi-Wan started up the ship, running through system checks.

 

“Reluctantly, yes,” Obi-Wan replied. “I don’t enjoy it, but it was a necessary skill to have.”

 

“During the war?”

 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replied absently, most of his concentration on making sure that their ship got off the ground and out of the hangar safely. Once they broke through the atmosphere, Obi-Wan was able to plot an autopilot course on the correct hyperspace lanes to Tatooine, and could to relax a little.

 

Qui-Gon turned in his chair to look at Obi-Wan fully. “The war seems to have changed you a lot, Obi-Wan,” he observed. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow as he looked to his ex-master.

 

“It’s impossible for it not to,” Obi-Wan replied.

 

“Would you like to talk about it?” Qui-Gon asked ever so gently, and Obi-Wan was once again overwhelmed with that _feeling_ , that emotion that felt rather like Qui-Gon wasn’t just his partner and master, but his father too. There was still much that Obi-Wan had to keep to himself about his past – the future – but if he could relieve some of that burden onto anyone’s shoulders, it would be Qui-Gon. And so he opened his mouth and began to speak.

 

Over the time spent in hyperspace, he spoke more than he had in twenty years, and despite the fact that his body was young and used to it, his mind wasn’t. Psychosomatically, his throat began to itch and become sore after a while, and Qui-Gon went to fetch a glass of water for him. It was at that moment that the computers beeped at him that they were nearing their destination, and Obi-Wan took back control of the ship.

 

It seemed incredibly strange emerging out of the blur of hyperspace into Tatooine’s orbit, to see the planet he had been living on for twenty years from the outside, looking down upon the heat and sand that had been his refuge and prison. In a strange way Obi-Wan had felt that there had always been a possibility that he would never leave Tatooine, that he would die on the planet that Anakin Skywalker had been born. That he would fail in his mission, or perhaps instruct Luke in the ways of the Jedi with his last breaths as Yoda had.

 

He had barely been off the Force-forsaken rock long enough to appreciate being gone before Vader had killed him, and being back on Coruscant was enough of a shock that it didn’t really hit Obi-Wan until now that he was _free_.

 

Qui-Gon must have sensed this in Obi-Wan as he came to stand behind him, his height making him tower over Obi-Wan the same way he had felt when Anakin had his final growth spurt. At least Obi-Wan knew that he had a few years now to catch up.

 

“It all looks the same,” Obi-Wan said quietly, peering at the red-bronze-gold hues of the planet, broken up by barely-there mountain ranges towards the planet’s poles. “Just a planet covered in sand. No discernible continents or landmarks, but I could tell you with absolute certainty the exact place that I lived.” He pointed towards the very north-eastern edge of the planet. “Anakin is only a few miles away.”

 

“You can sense him?” Qui-Gon asked very quietly, and very gently.

 

“Of course,” Obi-Wan replied. “It would be impossible not to. He is… like nothing else in the Force. Brighter than a supernova. It was a miracle that he went nine years without anyone finding him.”

 

Obi-Wan had cradled the light inside of Anakin for years, watching him grow from a candle into a bonfire, never worried that he would spiral out of control into a wildfire. Anakin had been impulsive and at times overruled by his emotions, but Obi-Wan had never for a second believed that allowing his padawan to grow as bright as he could would have ever been a bad thing. All he had wanted was for Anakin to be happy and to reach his full potential, for Obi-Wan to be by his side when his padawan surpassed him as he was destined to do.

 

And he had, but from the Dark Side.

 

Death, however, had lent Obi-Wan another perspective. Anakin was raw power and energy, filled to the brim and almost bursting with it, feeling emotions to their extremes, prone to snap mood swings when those emotions changed with the slightest of catalysts. On top of that Anakin was impulsive, barely ever thought things through, but in the end his power would always make sure he came out victorious. On the few occasions that Anakin did stop and think, his mind was unparalleled.

 

Obi-Wan, however, had always been more quiet and subdued, more subtle in his power and thinking. Where Anakin had been the sheer power backing them up, the compassion and anger and righteousness that had pushed their missions to completion every time, Obi-Wan had been the planner, the strategiser, the hand that guided Anakin. It was what had made them perfect as a team – strengths to back up the other’s weaknesses, points of view that allowed for their crazy, insane, _ridiculous_ plans to bloom into full fruition, and then the ability to carry those out.

 

All of this meant that although Anakin would always outweigh Obi-Wan in terms of pure power, Obi-Wan had the mind to work _around_ things, rather than blasting straight through them. It was why they had been evenly matched on Mustafar – Anakin was power and intuition, but Obi-Wan was control and reason. Where Anakin had surpassed Obi-Wan in one way, he was still far from Obi-Wan’s level in others.

 

Perhaps this time around Obi-Wan could teach him how to surpass Obi-Wan in all of those ways and remain in the Light.

 

Qui-Gon’s hand tightening on Obi-Wan’s shoulder brought him out of his sudden introspection.

 

“Are you alright, padawan?” he asked. Obi-Wan smirked at Qui-Gon’s slip of the tongue, well aware of how difficult it was to quell that habit after the knighting ceremony.

 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replied, taking in a deep breath. “Or no. I haven’t quite decided whether the butterflies in my stomach are nerves or excitement. Or perhaps illness.” Qui-Gon chuckled and patted Obi-Wan on the shoulder before letting go.

 

“He’s five years old, Obi-Wan. What could possibly happen?” he asked.

 

Obi-Wan laughed at that. “When it comes to Anakin Skywalker, anything.”

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * - that beautiful line is actually altered from a poem found here: ([x](http://aanathemaa.tumblr.com/post/139286554699/she-screams-for-heavens-help-but-heavens)) which I immediately found perfectly encompassed Anakin's situation.
> 
> Shout out to the Council for not putting up those defences I just totally made up now when they told the younglings to hide in there. That probably would've deterred Anakin for a while.
> 
> Sorry that this chapter isn't as long as I'd like it to be - the next one on Tatooine is freaking huge I might split it up into two parts. Thank you so much to everyone reading this, giving kudos and leaving comments! Ya'll don't even know how much your words mean to me and they really keep me going xoxo


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, ya'll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is what you were all hoping for :)

* * *

 

After landing in the Mos Eisley spaceport, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon both donned neutral beige cloaks over their rather distinctive Jedi robes. It wasn’t war time, but this was still the Outer Rim, where anyone from the deep Core was distrusted – especially Jedi. This was Hutt territory, and the only accepted outsiders were smugglers, traders and bounty hunters.

 

Obi-Wan didn’t bring the wupiupi with them, as it was far too inconspicuous and if he carried it in a bag they ran the risk of being pickpocketed. Instead he took a few coins worth approximately one thousand wupiupi and placed them in a small pouch next to his lightsaber as a good faith payment for Watto. If anyone tried to pickpocket him, they would think twice when they saw the ‘saber.

 

“Where are we headed, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked, looking around the bustling spaceport.

 

“Mos Espa, just a few miles west of here. We’ll need transport,” Obi-Wan said, scanning the nearby stores for any relevant signs. There were a multitude of languages used on Tatooine, including Basic, Bocce and Jawaese, but the majority of the language was Huttese, especially in their destination. Obi-Wan was quite fluent in Huttese after his twenty-year exile, but especially with a myriad of swears and curses that he’d picked up from Anakin over the years, and that boy had been _creative_.

 

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said as he saw a sign advertising speeders for rent. Indicating for Qui-Gon to follow him, he began to weave through the crowd to his destination. Usually he would not bother and would cut a path straight through to the stall, but they were attempting anonymity for the moment. The mission was to find Shmi and Anakin, free them from Watto, and to get them off the planet and back to Coruscant without any drama or injury. Considering last time, however, had ended in a pod race and a battle with a Sith apprentice, Obi-Wan wasn’t all that optimistic.

 

He argued with the Rodian manning the speeder stall, haggling down the ridiculously steep price that they were trying to charge him for. It took place entirely in Huttese, but Qui-Gon seemed to enjoy the argument anyway. It helped that through his bond with Obi-Wan he was able to discern the basic meanings of what was being said.

 

Eventually Obi-Wan haggled down to a reasonable price, to the Rodian’s disgust, and he and Qui-Gon each got a speeder to take them to Mos Espa. Obi-Wan knew the way like the back of his hand, and he resolutely ignored the butterflies in his stomach as they sped through the sand, towards a young boy that Obi-Wan would do anything for.

 

The structures of Mos Espa broke the monotony of the distant horizon, and Obi-Wan was suddenly and reluctantly overwhelmed to the point where he slammed his speeder to a stop so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. Qui-Gon, not anticipating it, overshot Obi-Wan by far, but executed a neat turn and came back to stop next to Obi-Wan. By the time he got off his speeder to approach, Obi-Wan was in the midst of what felt like a panic attack.

 

Obi-Wan had never had one before, but had been privy to a select few of Anakin’s, and he certainly had no other name for his shortness of breath, his spiralling thoughts or the shaking of his limbs that had him sinking to the ground, clutching the sand between his fingers as a familiar anchor.

 

Suddenly it seemed impossible to go any closer to Mos Espa where his five-year-old future padawan unknowingly awaited him. Obi-Wan loved that boy more than anything else in the galaxy, would do anything for him… but he could not bear it if he failed Anakin again. He would not be able to survive losing him to fire and madness a second time, considering that it had shattered him the first.

 

He sucked in the dry, arid air as much as he could despite the fact that his throat was closing and something heavy had sat on his chest, crushing his ribs and lungs as he tried desperately to filter out the oxygen from the sand in the air. He couldn’t fail again. He _couldn’t_ fail Anakin, it was unacceptable; but did he even have a _chance_ this time, any sliver of hope to keep his padawan, his other half, his beloved by his side? Just the thought that Anakin would slip from his grasp again, seething and mad and pulsing with the Dark side as he crushed Padmé’s throat – his _wife’s_ throat – and then sought to destroy Obi-Wan who loved him more than anything, loved him just as much as Padmé had…

 

“Breathe, Obi-Wan, just breathe,” Qui-Gon murmured, kneeling down beside Obi-Wan, a large palm resting between Obi-Wan’s shoulder blades. Easier said than done, however, as Obi-Wan tried to breathe but _couldn’t_. He clutched the front of Qui-Gon’s robes in white-knuckled fingers and tried to stem the flow of his panic, to block it off or release it into the Force but it was so strong that it was taking hold of Obi-Wan’s mind like a parasite, consuming everything of him, blocking him from his conscious thoughts and almost from the Force itself as he groped out blindly for it to anchor him and couldn’t reach it.

 

There was now absolutely no oxygen making its way into Obi-Wan’s lungs, despair and panic and sheer desperation taking all control away from him-

 

-Qui-Gon’s voice finally broke through it all with a Force command that he shoved straight into Obi-Wan’s mind through their link.

 

“ ** _Breathe_** ,” he ordered.

 

And Obi-Wan did.

 

His throat opened up and his lips parted, lungs inflating as he breathed in dry air. The first inhale was like being reborn, and Obi-Wan realised how close he had been to asphyxiating himself with his sheer panic. He took in great deep breaths of air, grateful for Qui-Gon’s palm on his back rubbing soothing circles and for the hand on his chest holding him upright as he shakily began to regulate his breathing.

 

He could reach out into the Force again, and shoved his panic and fear into it, releasing it from himself crudely but effectively, in a way he hadn’t had to since Mustafar. Qui-Gon continued to comfort him until his breathing was back to normal and he untensed his muscles, leaning back against the speeder, tipping his face up towards the twin suns with a heavy sigh.

 

“Are you alright now, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked, barely keeping the thread of concern out of his voice.

 

“As much as I can be,” he breathed out in reply. The sky was clear as it always was, with the occasional exception of dust storms. There wasn’t enough water on Tatooine for clouds to gather, much less for rain to form. Obi-Wan remembered the first time it had rained on Coruscant only a few days after Anakin had first arrived and was settling in. He was _supposed_ to be reading through the initiate material to catch up on the five or so years he had missed in the Jedi curriculum, but had been distracted when the rain began to gently tap on the windows of he and Obi-Wan’s shared quarters.

 

Obi-Wan had emerged from the kitchen to see Anakin’s datapad abandoned on the ground. After a second of heart-stopping panic, he’d heard a delighted giggle from outside. On the balcony, absolutely drenched from head to toe, stood nine-year-old Anakin with his arms outstretched, eyes closed and smiling so wide his face had to hurt. Experiencing rain for the first time, the same way he’d collapsed to the ground in the Temple gardens to feel the grass on his skin. Absolute and pure wonderment, the kind that could only be seen in children.

 

It was that memory of Anakin, the memory of the young boy who awaited Obi-Wan on the horizon that propelled him to his feet and back onto his speeder, shaking the thorns of despair and doubt from his mind as thoroughly as a tidal wave could wipe out everything in it’s path. Qui-Gon followed, and soon they were passing the borders into Mos Espa; every corner, building and turn painfully familiar.

 

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon parked their speeders somewhere that Obi-Wan knew would be safe, and to make sure of it he paid a nearby Weequay a few coins to watch over them.

 

“Where is he?” Qui-Gon asked, approaching Obi-Wan. The two of them put up their hoods to shield their eyes from the harsh midday suns, and to keep their anonymity on the off chance that anybody knew who they were.

 

Obi-Wan smirked. “Can’t you feel him, Qui-Gon? In the Force, like a third sun.”

 

He didn’t wait to see if Qui-Gon decided to reach out into the Force to find Anakin, and instead tugged on the man’s sleeve, pulling Qui-Gon along behind him. The two of them made their way through the winding, busy streets of Mos Espa, vendors and salespeople of all species hollering as they passed, attempting to bring customers in.

 

It was difficult to keep his pace slow and steady, to not start running the second that he felt Anakin’s presence, so full of Light and completely absent of Dark, like a balm on burned skin and his shattered soul. He had the feeling that somehow Qui-Gon knew this, but he didn’t say anything about it.

 

The two of them finally turned into the slave quarters, winding through the simple houses until they reached the wide space that acted like a road down the middle of them. Obi-Wan stopped at the sight of at least fifteen slave children all crowded around something in the middle, and he could feel through the Force exactly what they were all peering so curiously at.

 

His heart beat so hard he thought it might escape his chest, like it was magnetised to Anakin’s soul, trying to get to where it belonged.

 

He and Qui-Gon stepped closer so they could hear what the kids were saying.

 

“Where did it come from, Ani?” one asked. “Did it fall from the sky?”

 

“Of course it didn’t,” a painfully familiar voice said, high-pitched and childish but _familiar_. “It got damaged in a fight – see the blaster patterns here? It must’ve tried to find it’s way back home but these broken wires connect to its sense of direction. It couldn’t tell that it was going the wrong way. Then it shorted out.”

 

“Well who did it belong to?” another child asked. “Was it someone important?”

 

“Maybe,” Anakin said, hidden from view though his voice carried. Even so young his voice was commanding and heard over all others. “I mean, a lot of important people have droids like this, but merchants do too. Watto has one just like it.”

 

“Should we try and figure out where it came from?” a Rodian child asked. “We could return it to it’s owner! Maybe they’d reward us!”

 

Anakin made a thoughtful noise. “Maybe… but we’d have to get it operational to see if it’s still intact enough to remember anything. The fight could’ve damaged it’s memory.”

 

“But it won’t take you long to repair it, will it Ani? You’re wizard with droids!” one child exclaimed, and a few others excitedly agreed with their assessment. Obi-Wan didn’t have to see Anakin’s face to know that he was probably blushing with the praise, but also cockily grinning like he knew they were right. That was one particular expression that had never changed on his face.

 

“It’d probably only take a week or so, now that Watto wants me working longer at the shop,” he replied.

 

Obi-Wan stepped forward at that moment and pulled off his hood. “Maybe we could offer some assistance?” he asked.

 

All of the children stood and whirled around to look at him, still blocking his view of Anakin. Beside him, Qui-Gon also removed his hood, sensing that it was safe to do so.

 

“Who’re you, mister?” one of the children asked.

 

At that point, Obi-Wan heard a muffled _move!_ from within the circle of children. They all stepped aside, and Obi-Wan’s heart stuttered to a stop at the sight of five-year-old Anakin Skywalker, face and fingers smudged with oil from the broken droid, golden hair shining in the Tatooine suns and bright blue eyes the same as Obi-Wan had remembered perfectly, even years after they’d turned yellow.

 

Anakin stared at Obi-Wan for a full few seconds with wide, imploring eyes. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to introduce himself, but instead Anakin cut in first.

  
“ _Obi-Wan!_ ” he yelled, face splitting into a grin wider than the one he’d had during his first rainstorm. Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his chest as Anakin scrambled to his feet from where he’d been kneeling in the sand.

 

Obi-Wan didn’t even realise that he had dropped to his knees until Anakin had crossed the distance between them and launched himself at Obi-Wan, slinging his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck in a desperate hug.

 

After a few seconds of shock his higher brain functions kicked in, and Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Anakin’s waist, crushing the boy to him just as hard as Anakin was holding him, and began to sob.

 

“ _Anakin_ ,” he breathed out through a swollen throat. “My Anakin.”

 

Muffled into Obi-Wan’s neck, the five-year-old replied, “ _My_ Obi-Wan.” Anakin’s tiny fingers were clutching the fabric of Obi-Wan’s robes like it would kill him to let go, and if anyone had tried to make Obi-Wan release his padawan at that moment he would’ve eviscerated them where they stood.

 

Anakin’s chest heaved as he cried, warm tears trickling down Obi-Wan’s neck and shoulder. Obi-Wan raised a hand to press it to the back of Anakin’s head, feeling the soft strands of his golden hair. He began to card his fingers through it, holding Anakin tight enough he felt like their physical shells could burst open and they could become one.

 

“It’s okay dear one, shh,” he crooned, pressing a kiss to Anakin’s hair. “I’m with you, Anakin. I’m never going to let you go again. I promise, Ani. Never again.” Anakin’s tears soaked Obi-Wan’s robes, and he just continued to hold onto the boy that meant everything to him, burying his face into Anakin’s hair.

 

Despite the fact that the two of them were sobbing, the tears uncontrollably running down their faces that Obi-Wan couldn’t have stopped even if he wanted to, he felt a warmth inside his chest. It felt like a fire had been lit inside him – not the harsh, burning flames that tried to lick his skin on Mustafar, but a pleasant burn like a sip of Corellian liquor. He thought that if he could look at his own soul, the cracks between his shattered pieces would be bringing themselves back together.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into Anakin’s ear. “I’m so, so sorry Anakin. I let you down. I failed you. But I know better now, and I’m never going to fail you again.”

 

The boy clutched Obi-Wan even tighter and mumbled his reply into Obi-Wan’s neck.

 

“I’m sorry too,” he sobbed. At that, Obi-Wan pulled away far enough to cup Anakin’s tiny face in his hands, brushing his thumbs across his cheekbones to wipe away the tears that spilled out over them.

 

“You have _nothing_ to be sorry for, Ani,” Obi-Wan replied, voice stern and unmoving. “We failed you, all of us. We were supposed to keep you safe and instead we let you Fall.” Anakin’s face, with his wide blue eyes and baby-fat cheeks, crumpled at Obi-Wan’s words.

 

“No,” he replied, sobs making his breath hitch and his voice uneven. “I don’t- I don’t remember most of it but I know that I hurt you. I hurt you and everyone else and I don’t deserve…”

 

Obi-Wan leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. “I don’t care anymore, Anakin. That’s all in the past. It hasn’t come to pass. I just need you to be okay.”

 

Despite his tears, Anakin managed to break out into a bright, shaky smile. “I’m okay now, Master, now that you’re here.” His fingers tightened in the back of Obi-Wan’s robes for a second more before he gently released them, placing his hands on Obi-Wan’s shoulders. Obi-Wan looked into the eyes of the boy he loved and knew right then and there that everything was going to be okay, as long as he had Anakin with him.

 

Anakin raised a hand and wiped away Obi-Wan’s tears with a shaking touch so gentle he could barely feel it, like Anakin was afraid of hurting him. He frowned, and brushed some of Anakin’s hair away from where it’d fallen into his eyes.

 

“What do you remember, Ani?” he asked quietly.

 

Anakin chewed on his bottom lip, a nervous habit of his that he’d outgrown quickly. “Not much… I… I remember you, Master. I remember Coruscant, kind of, and the Temple. I remember a… girl. I know that I love her, like I love you and I love Mom, but I feel guilty. Like I shouldn’t… be around her. I think maybe I hurt her,” he murmured, quietly so that none of the children behind him could hear, voice solemn and childlike. “I remember you screaming and sometimes I have nightmares about fire and black smoke that I can’t get out of my lungs.”

 

Obi-Wan’s heart broke at Anakin’s words, but he couldn’t quite help the relief that slipped off his shoulders. Despite the fact that Anakin was physically five and had the countenance of a child, he’d been worried since Anakin had barrelled into his arms yelling Obi-Wan’s name that he’d remembered everything just like Obi-Wan had. Thankfully, Anakin seemed to have kept his innocence and his Light, the Force giving him a second chance, not burdening this child with memories no one should have had to live through.

 

Anakin broke off and chewed his bottom lip again, tightening his fingers in Obi-Wan’s robes. There was something else that he remembered that he wasn’t saying.

 

“Ani?” Obi-Wan asked, cupping Anakin’s jaw and rubbing soothing circles onto his cheekbones. “What else?”

 

“I…” Anakin stuttered, like he was physically unable to get the words out. “A man.”

 

Obi-Wan’s heart shuddered to a stop.

 

“What kind of man, Anakin?” he asked.

 

“He… I don’t know,” Anakin muttered, squeezing his eyes shut like if he tried hard enough he could remember. “Just… a feeling like his hands are on my shoulders, pressing down on me. Like he grabbed my spine and was… moving me around when I didn’t want to. I don’t know, Master. I don’t want to think about it.” Something clenched deep within Obi-Wan’s chest at words like those being said in such a young, innocent voice. It just confirmed what Obi-Wan had always suspected and had tried to believe during his exile – Anakin had been heavily manipulated by Sidious.

 

Obi-Wan still didn’t know what happened to Anakin when he was at Utapau fighting Grievous, and probably never would unless this Anakin grew up to recover his memories. He didn’t know what Sidious had said to his beloved for him to turn on them all so suddenly and viciously, had never been able to reconcile the Anakin he had kissed at the spaceport and the Anakin who had choked his wife to death before trying to kill Obi-Wan; the Anakin that was Vader. If Obi-Wan hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought they were two separate personalites, or perhaps a clone.

 

But he’d always sensed the Dark within Anakin, had done his best to help Anakin shine as brightly as possible, to extinguish that Dark that threatened him. In the end, he had failed.

 

But if Sidious was tha catalyst, if it was his existence that kept Vader anchored to the Dark Side…

 

“That’s okay, Ani,” he smiled at the boy. “I won’t let him hurt you ever again.”

 

A figure shifted behind Obi-Wan, and he’d completely forgotten until that moment that Qui-Gon was there, far too wrapped up in clutching his padawan to him to remember his ex-master. Not letting go of Anakin, he turned to look up at Qui-Gon, who had an unreadable expression on his face.

 

“Qui-Gon, this is Anakin Skywalker. Anakin, this is Master Jinn,” he introduced, unsure if Anakin would remember him.

 

“You look familiar,” Anakin replied. “But I don’t remember you.”

 

Qui-Gon smiled gently and crouched down so he was no longer towering over the two of them, and held his hand out to Anakin. “I wouldn’t expect that you would, young one. From what Obi-Wan tells me, you only knew me a short time. I hope we will be acquainted for much longer this time around.”

 

Anakin beamed and shook Qui-Gon’s hand unapologetically. Qui-Gon heaved himself to his feet and shooed away the children who had been watching the exchange with confused frowns, and they all trudged off reluctantly with goodbye waves to Anakin.

 

Obi-Wan moved to stand up too, his knees beginning to hurt, but Anakin stubbornly linked his arms around his neck again and refused to let go, a very familiar pout upon his mouth. Laughing, Obi-Wan scooped the boy into his arms, hands firmly gripping the underside of Anakin’s knees as the boy wrapped his legs about Obi-Wan’s waist in a reverse piggy-back.

 

“Shall we find your mother, Ani?” he asked.

 

“Yeah! She wants to meet you!” Anakin replied excitedly, pointing them in the direction of his house. “Ever since I remembered I’ve been telling her as much as I can about you and what I- oh wait, Master, can we bring that droid with us? I want to fix it,” Anakin asked. He pointed down at the mostly-wrecked droid that the children had all been crowding around.

 

It was relatively humanoid in shape, and seemed to be something similar to a handiwork droid. Somehow it reminded Obi-Wan of the first version of Threepio Anakin had made, all loose wires and no casing, and he grinned.

 

“Qui-Gon, would you?” he asked his partner.

 

With an exasperated sigh, Qui-Gon lifted the mess of wires and metal into his arms, unwilling to use the Force to carry it in such dangerous territory. Qui-Gon followed closely behind them as Obi-Wan carried Anakin to his house, the boy talking a hundred parsecs a minute about everything that ran through his head, from his memories to his neighbourhood and the people who lived there.

 

Obi-Wan simply basked in the Light that emanated from Anakin through the Force, absorbing it into himself.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the chapter's a little short, I had to cut it in half because I'm a little behind on writing the later chapters! Lowkey I nearly cried writing this reunion.
> 
> (Also, I'm not an Anakin Apologist™️, but we all know that he was _heavily_ manipulated by Sidious, a man he'd trusted since he was nine years old, who continued to manipulate Anakin well after he became Vader. But I feel like Obi-Wan would feel tremendous amounts of guilt not not realising what was happening to Anakin and how he was being manipulated like this, and is the sort of person that would place all of the blame upon himself, as Anakin's master.)
> 
> On an unrelated note, I'm a little stumped for the chapters post-Tatooine and skipped ahead to 16yo Anakin and honestly... ya'll.... it was so Nastie™️ I don't know how my little asexual fingers wrote it... I legit am going to have to change the rating to Explicit when I post that no shit I'm ?? None of you are prepared for dom!Obi trying to stop horny teenage Anakin from seducing him. (Remember, no underage happens, but like... Anakin is a little shit and we all know this.)


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

 

It did not take long for them to reach Anakin’s home, despite the fact that the Mos Espa slave quarters sprawled out for miles, considering the size of the slave trade on the planet. Anakin gave no signs of wanting to be put down, and Obi-Wan wasn’t entirely sure that he was ready to let go of him just yet. The door opened with ease, and both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were similarly burdened as they descended the stairs into the Skywalker home, shedding their cloaks.

 

Obi-Wan had never visited the house on their first time around, as he had stayed at the ship to protect Queen Amidala (not realising that she had been with Qui-Gon the entire time). As a result of that, he had never had the honor of meeting Shmi Skywalker outside of the tales that Anakin had told him. Tales that Anakin had told less and less as he grew up and had been scolded for, and then eventually never passed his lips again.

 

“Ani? Are you home?” a voice called out, warm and soft and a little accented; everything that Obi-Wan had assumed a mother would sound like.

 

“Yeah!” Anakin called out. “And I found Obi-Wan! And Master Jinn!” In reply there was a gentle tinkle of laughter that emanated from within the house, and Qui-Gon unceremoniously dumped the remains of the future-C3PO droid by the kitchen table.

 

“I’m sure you have, Ani, but you really should-“ Shmi softly said in a voice clearly full of disbelief, cutting off suddenly as she rounded the corner and took in the situation: her son in the arms of a sixteen-year-old stranger, and a man who was clearly a Jedi (as evidenced by the robes and lightsaber) who stood far taller than six foot, who had just dumped droid remains on her kitchen floor.

 

Shmi’s fingers tightened on the rag in her hands as though she tried not to drop it. “Oh,” she breathed. “You really were telling the truth, Ani.”

 

“I _told_ you,” Anakin drawled in that teasing way that only children could mimic. “I said Obi-Wan would come and get me, and he did!” Shmi Skywalker looked an awful lot like her son though Obi-Wan could not have said why – her eyes and hair were darker, but perhaps it was the kindness of her gaze, or the bashful twist of her mouth. She looked like a woman who had gone through far more than one her age should have, but had emerged from it still kind and very wise.

 

“Sorry to intrude,” Qui-Gon then spoke up. “And… sorry about the droid. Anakin and Obi-Wan were most insistent.”

 

“I’m gonna make a protocol droid, I think,” Anakin piped up. “He could look after Mom when I’m not here! And I can teach him a bunch of languages.”

 

“That, Ani, is a _great_ idea,” Obi-Wan smiled, holding back his inner _and why don’t you give the droid anxiety along with all of that too?_ Threepio had always been far easier to be around than Artoo, who was constantly sniping at them all in binary, but that didn’t mean he fretted any less. Obi-Wan had thought it was quite sweet, actually, for Anakin to build a droid for his mother that could care and worry so much.

 

Qui-Gon stepped forward and held his hand out to Shmi. “I am Master Jinn of the Jedi Order, though you can call me Qui-Gon,” he introduced kindly. Shmi smiled and shook the extended hand.

 

“Shmi Skywalker,” she replied. “And I take it you must be Obi-Wan Kenobi? Ani has been going on about you for _days_ , though I thought he had just dreamed up some imaginary Jedi friend for himself. It’s quite common with slave children, you know.”

 

Obi-Wan laughed at her words. “I’ve also heard quite a bit about you in turn,” he said. “I would greet you properly, but I seem to have my hands full at the moment.”

 

Anakin tightened his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck pointedly, and Shmi’s eyes softened.

 

“Understandable, Master Jedi,” she replied.

 

“Please, just Obi-Wan is fine,” he said. “No need to stand on ceremony with me.”

 

“Then you both must call me Shmi,” she said, dropping the rag to the table. “Would you care for a drink?” Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon both declined, knowing how scarce drinking water was on Tatooine, with the locals drinking mostly bantha milk, though it wasn’t abundant in the slave quarters.

 

Obi-Wan manouvered his way into a kitchen chair, still with Anakin in his arms, so that when he sat Anakin remained on his lap. Anakin turned to face his mother and Qui-Gon, who had also taken their seats at the table, so Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Anakin’s waist to ensure the boy didn’t fall off.

 

“I must admit, I don’t really understand what’s going on here,” Shmi spoke up once they’d all settled. “About a week ago, Anakin collapsed out of nowhere. There’s been a sickness going around the children and I thought that maybe he had it, but there was no fever, and he wouldn’t wake up.”

 

Qui-Gon hummed thoughtfully. “The same thing happened to Obi-Wan on Coruscant, about the same time ago,” he said.

 

“I was terrified,” Shmi admitted. “The only doctor I could afford around here said they had no idea what was happening to him, and then the seizures started… I thought he might die.” Anakin reached over the table to grab his mother’s hand, and pressed a comforting kiss to the back of it. Obi-Wan’s heart melted.

 

Shmi smiled down at her son before continuing. “Ani woke up about two days after he collapsed, asking where ‘Master Obi-Wan’ was,” she said. “And every day since then he’s been telling me stories, about Obi-Wan, about a girl who is an angel, bits and pieces of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. I didn’t mind, I thought perhaps he’d had very vivid dreams while he was unconscious…”

 

Obi-Wan sensed hesitation in her voice as she trailed off. “But?” he prompted gently. Shmi’s eyes were haunted when she looked up at him from where she had been staring down blankly at the table.

 

“Then the nightmares began,” Shmi breathed. Anakin shuddered on Obi-Wan’s lap, and he instinctively tightened his arms around the boy’s waist. “No mother should have to hear their child make those sounds. I don’t know what he dreams of, and he doesn’t quite remember in the morning, but the first night I surely thought he was being attacked. I’ve never heard anything like it,” she said, concern for Anakin written in every line on her face and every word she spoke.

 

Qui-Gon frowned at this. “I don’t believe Obi-Wan has been having nightmares,” he said, looking pointedly towards him. Obi-Wan sighed.

 

“Not anymore,” Obi-Wan replied. “When I retired here after… everything… I went through the same thing. I’ve had twenty years to process the nightmares, though, to have the Force ground me while I sleep, to control the emotions behind it. Anakin is five years old, and doesn’t remember what happened. His mind is too young to understand it all.” On his lap, Anakin leaned back until he was resting all his weight on Obi-Wan, picking up the Jedi’s fingers to fiddle with, sullen and uncharacteristically silent.

 

“What… what happened? To you? To my son?” Shmi asked, gentle but with unyielding strength in her voice, a fierce protectiveness that only mothers had for their children. At her words, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon shared a look that conveyed an entire conversation through their Force bond. Qui-Gon was willing to go with Obi-Wan’s judgement, but thought that the less people knew about the truth of the situation, the better. He also understood a parent’s need to protect their child from anything harmful to them, and knew that Shmi would not like what Obi-Wan had to say. Obi-Wan smiled at his ex-master and promised to keep it simple.

 

“It’s complicated to explain, but I shall do my best,” Obi-Wan replied. “Though I do not appear to be, I am over fifty years old. The Force saw fit to take me from the future where I lived and died to bring me back here to that I might change it for the better, and alter history to a more favourable outcome. Your son was my padawan for over ten years in that future, and like me, was at the center of all things. I thought that perhaps it was up to me alone to change the future, but it appears… that is not the case, if Anakin remembers me.”

 

Shmi sat in stunned silence for a few moments, before quickly processing what Obi-Wan had told her. She then rapidly compartmentalized it, and accepted it as truth, unbelievable as it sounded. Shmi was far better at this than the Council, and Obi-Wan didn’t quite hide the smirk that came onto his face at that. Anakin’s mother was more than a little Force sensitive, and Obi-Wan knew it would be very difficult to lie to the woman.

 

“You are telling me that you and my son are from the future?” Shmi asked.

 

“Correct.”

 

“And… because you are older, you remember it all. Anakin is just a child, so he remembers only the bare minimum?” Shmi then asked, picking up the situation very quickly.

 

“Yes.”

 

After a few moments of contemplation, Shmi looked back up again. “Will Anakin regain his memories?” she asked.

 

Obi-Wan thought on the answer, and replied “perhaps,” the same moment that Anakin very firmly said “yes”. He raised his eyebrows at Anakin’s confident answer, and turned the boy a little on his lap so that he could see Anakin’s face.

 

“And what makes you think that you will, dear one?” he asked. Something flitted through the master-padawan bond from Qui-Gon at his words, but Obi-Wan ignored it.

 

“I’m… kind of… already getting memories back,” Anakin all but whispered, as though it was a bad thing. “Not any big ones, but things from here. Like, I remember days happening a little differently. If you and Master Jinn hadn’t come today, I would’ve had to drag that droid home on my own and Mom would make dustcrepes for dinner, and we would go onto the roof when the suns set and Mom would tell me about the stars. But you’re here, so it’s different.”

 

So it seemed that unlike Obi-Wan, who received all his memories in one fell swoop, Anakin had enough of his to remember certain people or impressions of them, but he was also receiving his relatively in parallel to each day of his previous life. This meant that if it continued on like this, Anakin wouldn’t remember Mustafar until he was twenty-three, the same age he had been last time around.

 

Good.

 

“Will he be okay? When the memories come back?” Shmi asked. Obi-Wan swallowed thickly and tightened his grip on Anakin – he had no answer for Shmi that he was certain of, but his instinctive response to the question showed her all that she needed to know. Anakin seemed to sense this because he smiled at his mother.

 

“I’ll be okay, Mom. I’ve got Obi-Wan,” he said, as though that was all the explanation needed. Something in Obi-Wan’s chest tightened at Anakin’s unwavering faith in him, and he tried not to think about where that faith had gone, how Sidious had destroyed it utterly. He breathed through the anger that suddenly welled up in him, and blocked it off from Anakin’s Force presence as well as he could, though Qui-Gon picked up on it through their bond, sending him a curious pulse of a question.

 

Obi-Wan looked at the time and realised that they only had an hour or two until Watto would close his shop, and he wasn’t sure how long the negotiation with the Toydarian would take. Reluctantly he turned his hold on Anakin into a hug, and pressed his face into the boy’s hair.

 

“Master Qui-Gon and I have to head out for a bit, Ani,” he informed Anakin. The boy’s face fell, and he swiveled around to clutch Obi-Wan to him, face scrunching up in confusion with a sad pout on his lips. It was an expression Obi-Wan was _very_ familiar with, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “We’ll come back, don’t you worry.”

 

“Can I come with you?” Anakin asked, fingers digging into Obi-Wan’s upper arms through his robes.

 

“I’m afraid not, dearest,” Obi-Wan sighed with a smile, running a hand through Anakin’s hair. “We shouldn’t be longer than a couple of hours though, and then we’ll be back. That is, if it’s alright with your mother?”

 

He looked to Shmi, who was smiling both with joy that her son was so happy, and also sadness, because it was clear she knew exactly why Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were here, and thought that she would be having to give up her son to the Jedi.

 

“Of course, Master Kenobi,” she replied gracefully. “Come now, Ani, I need you to help me with preparing dinner. You said dustcrepes?”

 

Thoroughly distracted by the promise of food, Anakin slipped off Obi-Wan’s lap and onto the floor, but not without first planting a small kiss on Obi-Wan’s cheek. He ruffled Anakin’s hair as he bounced off towards his mother, before he and Qui-Gon collected their cloaks and exited back out into the cooling, but still stifling, Tatooine afternoon.

 

Obi-Wan took a deep breath of the thick air that was so painfully familiar to him, thankful that he was no longer choking on it as he had been not even an hour earlier.

 

“Are you alright, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked.

 

Obi-Wan turned to smile at him. “I’m sure you’re getting tired of asking that question by now, Qui-Gon. But yes, I’m alright. I’ll be better once Shmi and Anakin are off this Force-forsaken dustball,” he replied. Scanning the area, Obi-Wan found a landmark in the distance that signified the Mos Espa marketplace, where Watto’s junk shop was located, and began to walk, Qui-Gon patiently following him.

 

He knew Qui-Gon was working his way up to asking something, and so remained quiet until the Jedi decided to voice his concern.

 

“I felt a lot of anger in you, Obi-Wan,” he eventually said. “Enough that you felt the need to block it off from Anakin.”

 

Obi-Wan sighed and slowed the brisk pace he’d been setting through Mos Espa. “I will admit that I do not have the greatest of control over my feelings at the moment, Qui-Gon,” he confessed. “Nothing in my life is certain anymore, and I am all too well aware how ephemeral things I once considered to be constants are. You, Anakin, the entire Order, the Republic… I am somewhat lacking in stability. I don’t want Anakin to be exposed to emotions like this anger I have for Sidious at such a young age.

 

“He’s so bright, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan murmured. “I couldn’t bare it if he Fell again.”

 

At this he came to a complete stop in a small alley between two buildings. He’d just gotten Anakin back, _his_ Anakin, with memories enough to remember him and it was more than Obi-Wan had ever dreamed he would get in this new past of his. It would destroy Obi-Wan to lose him again, especially if it was Obi-Wan’s own dark emotions that kickstarted his Fall.

 

Qui-Gon wrapped an arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders and pulled him into his chest, where Obi-Wan inhaled his scent and tried not to think about it.

 

“That boy loves you, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said quietly. “He is utterly devoted to you, and you to him. Even when the two of you are unaware of it, your Force signatures are touching, trying to draw each other in, trying to recreate the bond that you once had. I find it difficult to believe that this boy would ever be capable of Falling, even more so with you around.” Obi-Wan couldn’t quite help but smile at the words, and pulled away gratefully.

 

“How do you always know just what I need?”

 

“As one who has raised a padawan, Obi-Wan, you should know,” Qui-Gon replied. “Let’s keep moving.”

 

The negotiation with Watto went surprisingly well, far better than Obi-Wan had thought, considering that last time it had taken a pod-race and some misuse of the Force on Qui-Gon’s part in order to get Anakin freed. It helped that Obi-Wan spoke Huttese, the language of trade, and was open about his intent to recruit Anakin to the Jedi. As a being that lived on a planet that ran on lies and deceit, Watto was grateful for Obi-Wan’s honesty.

 

It took a little over thirty minutes to negotiate a price for both Anakin and Shmi, with Obi-Wan arguing that the original price Watto asked was far too high for a five-year-old and a woman who had no particular specialisations; especially considering that Obi-Wan pointed out he knew that Watto had paid nothing for them in the first place, and had won them in a bet. Reluctantly Watto took their good faith payment, but refused to hand over the detonator for their tracking chips until he had the rest of the seventy-three-thousand wupiupi Obi-Wan negotiated for.

 

They promised payment the next day, as soon as they could get to their ship at Mos Eisley, and parted with a handshake and a deal to meet just past sunrise. With a bounce in his step, Obi-Wan stopped by a stall about to close up and bought an assortment of imported fruits, knowing that they would be quite the rarity for Shmi and Anakin.

 

“It’s lucky that you’re so familiar with the language and the locals, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said as they weaved their way through the slave quarters, “or I think we would have ended up paying triple for these.”

 

“Quadruple,” was Obi-Wan’s quick reply.

 

Anakin was immediately in his arms again the moment that they step into the Skywalker household, and Qui-Gon had to use the Force to catch the fruit that tumbled from Obi-Wan’s arms, making Anakin laugh. It triggered a vague memory of something Padmé had told Obi-Wan once about a levitating pear.

 

Shmi had made dustcrepes for the four of them, and Obi-Wan didn’t feel guilty when he accepted one from her, considering that the next words out of his mouth were to announce that as of the next morning, they would no longer be slaves.

 

“You mean… _both_ of us?” Anakin gasped from where he’d resituated himself back onto Obi-Wan’s lap. “We’re both coming to Coruscant?”

 

“If that’s what you want,” Obi-Wan smiled, brushing Anakin’s hair out of his eyes. “You’ll be free to do whatever you wish. If you want to come and join the Jedi again, Ani, we can set your mother up with a home and a job close to the Temple. If you don’t want to, the two of you can go wherever in the galaxy you want to go.”

 

Obi-Wan, for the first time in decades, was once again on the receiving end of a very distinctive Anakin Expression™, one which said that Obi-Wan had just said something very stupid, because he should know Anakin better than to suggest what he had just suggested. Granted, the effect was a little more hilarious on the face of a five-year-old, but it conveyed the message well enough. Obi-Wan laughed and pressed a kiss to the crown of Anakin’s head.

 

“That answers that. We’re going to Coruscant,” Shmi breathed, a little disbelieving but incredibly happy.

 

The celebration in the Skywalker house that night was quiet and demure, with Shmi mostly in a joyful daze, while Anakin was hyperactive and regaling his mother with tales of anything he could remember about Coruscant and the Jedi Temple and how much she would love it there. Qui-Gon broke away at one point to report their successful mission to the Council and the fact that Anakin also had some of his memories, while Obi-Wan simply basked in Anakin’s presence.

 

They didn’t manage to settle Anakin into bed until quite late, the boy far too excited to begin winding down. It was only after Obi-Wan slyly imparted a Force suggestion that Anakin’s energy finally began to wane and his eyelids grew heavy. Shmi tucked her son into bed with a kiss on the forehead, and the three of them left Anakin to sleep as they congregated in the kitchen to hash out the details of their future.

 

Obi-Wan felt like he had barely put his head on his pillow, sleeping on the battered sofa while Qui-Gon insistently took the floor, when he was woken up by screaming.

 

Despite the fact that the one doing the screaming was a child - high-pitched, wailing and disturbing - it sent a shudder down Obi-Wan’s spine as he recognized it. The same ripped apart, heart wrenching tone that Obi-Wan had heard on Mustafar, a voice that screamed itself hoarse in pain and haunted Obi-Wan’s dreams with the words _I hate you_.

 

Before he’d even realized he was moving, Obi-Wan was sprinting into Anakin’s room, barely noticing Shmi and Qui-Gon hot on his heels. Anakin was thrashing around in his bed, tiny frame wracked by shudders as his fingers clenched white-knuckled on the sheets, _fear_ and _rage_ and _terror_ and _despair_ emanating from him in the Force like a palpable storm, filling up the room like the burning stink of ozone, rattling the walls.

 

Crouching down by the bed, Obi-Wan knew from experience that waking Anakin now would leave him exhausted, terrified and out of sorts for hours. Instead, he gently laid his palm on Anakin’s chest and bowed his head, feeling out the boy’s presence in the Force. It had been years since he had calmed Anakin and one of his nightmares, but like muscle memory, it came back to him as easy as breathing. Slipping into Anakin’s mind was like coming home, wrapping the boy’s shining Force signature around him like a cloak and enveloping Anakin with his own.

 

Anakin’s screams began to die down as Obi-Wan took hold of the nightmare and released it into the Force, drawing Anakin’s attention away from memories he couldn’t handle yet (and perhaps would never be able to), and instead filtered in his own memories, his own emotions, settling and calming Anakin like in a joint meditation.

 

A memory of a rare time he, Anakin and Ahsoka had been able to enjoy a drink and a sunset after a successful mission. The protective warmth he felt for Anakin as he experienced his first rainstorm, saw the Room of a Thousand Fountains in the Temple and had taken in the abundance of greenery and fresh, clean water. He soothed Anakin with the feeling of finding each other again, of all the times Obi-Wan had taken Anakin into his arms and just _held_ him for the purpose of being able to do so.

 

Soon, Anakin was fast asleep, his fingers now loosely clenching Obi-Wan’s shirt instead of the sheets, his face relaxed and innocent in sleep, dreaming of sweeter things. Obi-Wan didn’t remove himself from the connection yet, enjoying being with his padawan again, and could hear Qui-Gon and Shmi murmuring together in the doorway.

 

“He really loves Ani, doesn’t he?” Shmi whispered.

 

“I’m beginning to realize just how much,” Qui-Gon replied.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to everyone who's been sticking with me so far, leaving beautiful, lovely and VERY appreciated comments, I can't thank you call enough! If you wanna come chat with me sometime about anything you can find me on tumblr as tricksterity too :)
> 
> Also, the next chapter might come out late or be a little shorter than expected considering I've hit a little bit of a speed bump in terms of my plot. Love you all! xoxo


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and Shmi are finally freed and the gang head back to Coruscant.

* * *

 

By the time Anakin woke up the next morning, Shmi had packed up the majority of their things (which was not much), and all that was left was for Anakin to pack a bag and say goodbye to his friends. He had only a few possessions, so the small bag was mostly empty, but he insisted on taking the broken droid that still remained on the kitchen floor, and Obi-Wan agreed with him. So once again Qui-Gon was saddled with the burden of carrying around the heap of metal and wires that would eventually become C3PO.

 

After Anakin had excitedly told all of his friends that he was going to live on Coruscant and become a Jedi, which all of them believed, because he was _Anakin Skywalker_ , the four of them met with Watto at the agreed time by the rented speeders. They rode back out to Mos Eisley, Shmi on Qui-Gon’s speeder and Anakin seated with Obi-Wan, where they retrieved the rest of the payment for Watto from their ship.

 

There was still about twenty thousand wupiupi left over that Obi-Wan sequestered away inside the ship. Qui-Gon raised a brow at him in question, but Obi-Wan just smiled sunnily and ignored him. Watto handed over the detonators without hesitation, and the transaction went smoothly. As soon as the four of them were secure on the ship, Obi-Wan got out his lightsaber and sliced the detonators in half.

 

“We’ll get those chips removed when we reach Coruscant,” he said, sliding into the pilot’s chair, beginning pre-flight checks. Qui-Gon sat in the co-pilot’s seat, but Anakin excitedly jumped up onto Obi-Wan’s lap again, curious eyes taking in every single thing on the ship’s dashboard.

 

“Did I fly, Master?” he asked.

 

Obi-Wan laughed as they got ready for takeoff. “All the time, Ani. You were widely considered to be the best pilot in the Republic. But then again you did win the Boonta Eve podrace at age nine, so I wasn’t really surprised,” he replied.

 

Shmi made a shocked noise from behind them, where she was gripping the pilot’s seat and looking out at the buildings of Mos Eisley as they ascended into the air. “Why was Ani in a podrace? At age nine?” she asked.

 

“…Long story,” Obi-Wan evaded. “Let’s just say I’m grateful this whole situation went much smoother this time around. Hold onto something, Shmi, we’re about to hit the atmosphere.” The ship lurched a little as they passed through the atmosphere, and Obi-Wan calculated the trip back to Coruscant in no time – it certainly helped now that there were no Separatists blocking the hyperspace lanes to worry about.

 

The trip back to Coruscant was just as eventful as the trip to Tatooine. The only exception was that Qui-Gon relieved Obi-Wan’s position in the pilot’s chair when Anakin went to sleep, so Obi-Wan could curl up around the boy and make sure that his nightmares didn’t bring down the ship.

 

Qui-Gon let the Temple know that they’d be arriving, so Yoda and Mace were waiting at the Temple landing pad when they pulled in. Before they got off the ship, Obi-Wan took the remaining wupiupi and passed it to Shmi with a sly grin.

 

“Something to help you start out in your new life,” he said. Shmi’s eyes widened comically, but like Qui-Gon, she was not one to make a scene. Instead she simply squeezed Obi-Wan’s bicep in thanks, and tucked the currency away into her bag. Anakin was bouncing on the balls of his feet as the ship’s ramp lowered, peering up and out to the Coruscant skyline, grin getting wider the more he saw.

 

Obi-Wan couldn’t stop Anakin from rushing out as soon as the ramp fully descended, and Anakin’s delighted giggles echoed around the area. Mace looked vaguely annoyed, as he always did with non-Jedi younglings, having _feelings_ and all that, but Yoda was smiling indulgently at the boy. Shmi’s eyes were wide and she was clearly struggling to stop her jaw from dropping open.

 

The landing pad of the Jedi Temple wasn’t much, but as they turned and looked behind them – all of Coruscant was on display, with it’s skyscrapers and speeders, neon signs and billboards, an overwhelming amount of life and energy as opposed to the slow, empty sands of Tatooine.

 

“Welcome back, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon,” Mace said once their party had drawn near. “You must be Anakin Skywalker.”

 

Anakin finally stopped spinning around curiously and peered up at Mace. His eyes narrowed, squinting as though he were looking at the sun, or trying very hard to remember something.

 

“You’re the colour purple,” Anakin then announced matter-of-factly. Mace blinked at the random change of topic, and Obi-Wan held back a laugh. Of course the only thing Anakin would remember of Mace was the unique colour of his lightsaber. He then turned to Yoda, who stood only a couple inches shorter than Anakin, and against all odds the boy _grinned_.

 

“I remember you!” he said, and wrapped his arms around Yoda. The Grand Master was shocked, but patted Anakin’s back with a smile after a few confused seconds.

 

“A very kind boy, you are,” Yoda said as Anakin pulled away, and Obi-Wan felt for the very first time the way that he really was changing things, because Yoda would _never_ have said that about Anakin in the past. “Grand Master Yoda, I am, and Master Windu, this is. To the Jedi Temple, we welcome you, Anakin Skywalker.”

 

“And you are…?” Mace asked, looking over at Shmi, who bowed politely in greeting.

 

“Shmi Skywalker, Master Jedi. Anakin’s mother,” she said. Mace’s jaw clenched ever so slightly as he looked over to Obi-Wan, who did his best to remain looking completely innocent, which was most likely fooling exactly no one.

 

“We couldn’t quite justify leaving her in slavery when we were bringing her son with us,” Qui-Gon then spoke up. “It wouldn’t have been right, Mace.” And well, there wasn’t quite anything that Mace could say to argue that point, let alone in front of the woman herself. Obi-Wan tried very hard to hide his smirk as Mace and Yoda indicated for Anakin and Shmi to follow them.

 

Anakin, in his excitement, tried to race ahead through the hallways of the Temple. Obi-Wan knew him better than that, though, and managed to snag him by the back of the shirt just before he got out of arm’s reach.

 

“No running ahead, Anakin,” he sighed in an exasperated tone that came back to him as easily as breathing, making Anakin pout.

 

“But I wanna see the Temple!”

 

In response, Obi-Wan crouched down with his back facing the boy. Anakin immediately scrambled on with an excited noise and tightened his grip around Obi-Wan’s neck. Hands firmly under Anakin’s knees, Obi-Wan got back to his feet with Anakin on his back, now at the optimum height to see all around them.

 

“Comfortable?”

 

“Yes, Master!” Anakin crowed back happily, turning this way and that to see as much as he could. “Can we go to the water room? I wanna show Mom!”

 

“Not yet, Ani,” Obi-Wan replied. “You’ve still got to be interviewed by the Council so they can let you stay here. It won’t take too long though,” he said, giving Mace a pointed look as he did so. Last time it had taken _hours_ of thorough vetting from the Council, absolutely terrifying a nine-year-old boy, leaving Anakin with shaking hands as he’d exited the Council chambers and not from excitement. As far as the Council was concerned this time though, Anakin was just a normal kid, not the Chosen One, even if he was reaching the maximum age limit of younglings the Jedi accepted.

 

Obi-Wan never really had understood that, though. They’d been so reluctant to accept Anakin into the Order when he clearly had the potential to be the most powerful Force user they’d ever seen. If they’d rejected him, and sent him back to Tatooine like they’d told Qui-Gon, what the hell did they think would happen had the Sith ever found him? If _anyone_ with even a little knowledge of the Force and a hatred for the Council or the Republic had found him.

 

It had seemed very shortsighted of the Council to not want to train up someone as strong as Anakin, and when they did, they’d always argued that they treated him like everyone else when in actual fact they’d treated him too harshly and unfairly. It had taken Obi-Wan far too long to see that, though.

 

Anakin wiggled on Obi-Wan’s back. “What happens in the interview?”

 

“Assess your Force potential, we do,” Yoda piped up, rising to Anakin’s height in his floating chair. “Sense how well you will fit in, we see, and how you will adapt to the Jedi teachings.”

 

Obi-Wan nearly snorted aloud at that. Anakin’s arms tightened around Obi-Wan, not enough to block off his breathing, but enough that Obi-Wan could tell that Anakin was nervous. He gently rubbed circles on Anakin’s knees with his thumbs, reassuring the boy that all would be okay.

 

“You’ll do fine, Ani,” he murmured. “No need to panic. The Jedi are no one to be afraid of.” In response, Anakin pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s hair, a reverse of what normally happened.

 

“I know, Master,” he smiled, tugging on Obi-Wan’s hair slightly. Qui-Gon and Shmi laughed indulgently at Anakin’s unwavering faith, and Obi-Wan was once again forced to swallow down the lump in his throat at those words. Each time Anakin said something similar it was both like a slap in the face and a squeeze on his heart, warming Obi-Wan while also rubbing in his face how much unadulterated _trust_ Anakin must’ve had in him; trust that he had betrayed, trust that he had destroyed.

 

No, he couldn’t think like that. It was Sidious who betrayed that trust, and Sidious who was going to pay for it.

 

They arrived at the Council chambers, and Obi-Wan could see that the entire Jedi High Council had once again been convened – though this time they all had welcoming smiles for the boy he carried, not severe frowns and sadistic impassion. Obi-Wan crouched down so Anakin could scramble off his back, and the boy tried his hardest to make himself look presentable and stand tall and proud, despite his sand-covered clothes and miniscule height.

 

Mace and Yoda took their seats, and motioned for the rest of them to leave.

 

“We’ll be just outside, Ani,” Obi-Wan whispered, crouching down to place a hand on the nape of Anakin’s neck. “Trust in yourself and the Force and you’ll be fine. They won’t bite.”

 

Anakin beamed. “Will do, Master.”

 

Shmi pressed a quick kiss to his head, and then Qui-Gon was herding the two of them out, the heavy chamber doors booming shut behind them. A strange nervous fluttering began up in Obi-Wan’s gut, but he ignored it in favour of showing Shmi to a bench they could wait for Anakin on, just opposite the doorway.

 

Both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon sat cross-legged on the bench, so used to meditation they automatically sat in that way or sitting back on their heels. Shmi was to Obi-Wan’s right and Qui-Gon to Obi-Wan’s left.

 

“Is he going to be okay?” Shmi asked, nervous fingers twining around each other. Reaching out a hand to hers, Obi-Wan gently stopped the movement.

 

“He’ll do brilliantly, Shmi,” he said. “Anakin is a bright boy with the universe at his fingertips. The Council will love him, it’s impossible not to.”

 

“Clearly,” Qui-Gon muttered under his breath, so quietly that Obi-Wan was half sure he’d imagined it, and he dug an elbow into his ex-master’s ribs, causing Shmi to laugh. Her smile was bright and wide, her laugh carefree and relieved, and it was exactly the same as Anakin’s.

 

The three of them settled down to wait, knowing that the process could sometimes take a while. After this they’d have to settle Anakin in at the initiates’ quarters, a place the boy had never stepped foot in during their earlier timeline, as he’d gone straight into living with Obi-Wan at their own quarters. They’d have to give Anakin a tour so he could find his way around, and then locate a job and home for Shmi. The currency he’d given Shmi would last her a while if she didn’t immediately find a job, but a woman such as her was used to working long, hard hours with no pay – they were only given what Watto had seen fit to give them, and he’d been more generous than most – so it would be easy to locate employment for her.

 

Obi-Wan wanted to find her somewhere to live nearer the upper levels of Coruscant, though a woman from Tatooine would be more than able to handle anything the underworld and it’s inhabitants threw at her. It would be better for her to get out of such an environment, though, and if Anakin was to be able to visit her regularly, it would have to be in a safe, nearby area.

 

And after that… well, that was a little more difficult.

 

A _lot_ more difficult.

 

Anakin would be settled, Shmi would be free, and Qui-Gon would most likely stay his partner for any missions that the Council sent them on (which weren’t an awful lot outside of wartime). But everything else was up in the air – Sidious, Maul, the Clones, Dooku, Padmé…

 

There were so many ways that it could all go wrong, and so many ways that Obi-Wan could plunge the galaxy back into the Empire all over again. He couldn’t risk telling anyone the whole story, not even Qui-Gon, and so it was all up to him.

 

The options were like this: he could stop Palpatine from becoming Chancellor, but then how would he know what the man was up to? Palpatine worked in the shadows as Sidious but his position in the spotlight would always let Obi-Wan know exactly where he was.

 

If Obi-Wan killed Sidious now, and was able to without any repercussions whatsoever, political or social, what plans would the man have in place for exactly that occurrence? Like a dead man’s switch, once Sidious fell, a completely new set of events could drop into place like tumblers in a lock, events that Obi-Wan had no way of predicting.

 

If Obi-Wan killed Maul now, then he wouldn’t know who Sidious’ new apprentice would be.

 

If Obi-Wan stopped Clone production, then what who they fight the War with? There weren't enough Jedi to fight the entire Separatist army, and not enough civilians to train up as soldiers.

 

If Obi-Wan stopped the War, what subterfuge would Sidious employ that Obi-Wan would be blind to? War was terrible, yes, and it had divided the Republic and snuffed out millions of lives, but it was also predictable and glaringly _there_ – not hidden schemes working in the shadows that couldn’t be seen. If he risked averting the Clone Wars entirely, lives would be saved, but Sidious’ actions would be that much harder to follow and stop.

 

There was far too much that could go wrong. Never in Obi-Wan’s wildest daydreams during his exile had he ever considered that this could be an option – going back and changing anything. There was no point in thinking about it (because what is, is) and so Obi-Wan was now forced to consider too many plans of action in too short a space of time.

 

Well, he had until Anakin was nine, at least. Four years would give him some time before Naboo to think of _something_.

 

More time must have passed in his contemplations that he’d thought, because the Council chambers suddenly opened to reveal a grinning Anakin standing next to Yoda, who had a clawed hand on the boy’s shoulder.

 

“Welcomed to the Jedi Order, young Skywalker has been,” Yoda announced. “An initiate, he is.”

 

Anakin in response tried very hard to press his lips together to stop the ridiculous smile that wanted to completely overtake his young face. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but approach and run a proud hand through the boy’s blonde hair, conveying everything that he needed to. Shmi had tears in her eyes, and Qui-Gon’s otherwise impassive expression was broken only by his warm gaze.

 

“Thank you, Master Yoda,” Anakin said very seriously, giving the Grand Master a short bow. Yoda patted his shoulder once and summoned his hover-chair as the rest of the Council began to file out, nodding or giving smiles to their little motley group.

 

Once all of the Council had cleared out and the hallway was empty except for the four of them, Obi-Wan crouched down and enveloped Anakin in his arms.

 

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered into the boy’s ear. He could feel Anakin grin against his neck, and his little fingers grasp the back of his robes. Obi-Wan reluctantly released him so Anakin could go to his mother, and ignored the knowing look Qui-Gon sent his way.

 

Their first stop was to the Temple healers, where Anakin and Shmi painlessly had their slave tracking detonators removed. The next was the initiates’ quarters. They weren’t too far from the Council chambers, considering that they were the one that needed to be monitored more than any others in the Temple. Most of the younglings were in classes, so the area was empty. The main room was filled with chairs and tables and things to keep the children occupied, and off the main room multiple dormitories broke off, sorting the children out by age. Obi-Wan remembered being in the furthest room on the right for the eldest children, days away from turning thirteen and being terrified that he wasn’t going to be chosen as a padawan.

 

And, well, he hadn’t been, but Qui-Gon had noticed not too long after he’d been sent off to Agri Corps that he was going to fit with him well. Obi-Wan thanked his lucky stars every day that Qui-Gon had seen his potential and they had grown so close to each other.

 

“This is where you’ll be staying, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, directing Anakin to the furthest room on the left. The door opened to reveal rows of bunk beds, some obviously slept in and others just empty mattresses with sheets and duvets piled at the end. Some of the children had their belongings scattered on the bed or taped to the walls, and a wall of closets lined the end of the room where their robes and casual clothes were stored.

 

“Take your pick,” Obi-Wan said, nudging Anakin further into the room. Anakin was a little nervous and ended up picking the first unused bed he saw, a bottom bunk as opposed to the top like most children would likely pick. Anakin placed his bag on it and then looked back to the three of them, his expression slightly lost.

 

“You’ll be introduced to the rest of the initiates when they come back from classes, and you’ll be shown where everything is and what your schedule is tonight,” Obi-Wan informed him. “I’m sure you will make friends in no time, Anakin, you’ve always been very good at that.”

 

Anakin blushed at his words. “For now, though, we can show you the rest of the Temple before we find a new home for your mother,” Obi-Wan said, holding out a hand. Anakin grabbed it immediately, and with his empty hand took his mother’s, and the four of them headed back out into the Temple with Qui-Gon leading up the rear. He didn’t have to stay, but Obi-Wan suspected that his ex-master was still curious about the boy that held Obi-Wan’s heart and loyalty so easily in his palms.

 

Anakin’s reactions to the rest of the Temple were just as enthralled and breathless as they had been the first time around, and Shmi’s were rather the same just much more contained. They had both teared up when they had walked through the Room of a Thousand Fountains and the Temple Gardens, Anakin falling to his stomach and rolling around in the sweet grass while Shmi simply took a leaf gently in her fingertips to feel the texture of it, silent in her awe.

 

“Can we swim in it?” Anakin asked upon seeing one of the larger ponds that the water cascaded into. Obi-Wan remained staunchly tight-lipped about it while Qui-Gon broke out into uncontained laughter.

 

“Technically you are not supposed to, young one,” Qui-Gon said, “but there are no rules explicitly stopping one from swimming in it. Only bathing is disallowed, a rule that Obi-Wan here took great advantage of in his younger years.”

 

Anakin’s eyes were wide and shocked in his joy. “You broke the rules, Master?”

 

“Not at all,” Obi-Wan replied, head held high, “it is expected that one is not to enter the water, but it is a long time tradition of padawans to do so, especially in the warmer months, and only when the masters are not around to see.”

 

“Wizard,” Anakin breathed, looking longingly at the water. “How deep is it?”

 

“Deep enough that you’d probably sink under, Ani,” Shmi said, pulling Anakin away from where he’d been edging closer to the water. “And either way, you don’t know how to swim.”

 

“Obi-Wan can teach me,” Anakin insisted, looking hopefully up at Obi-Wan, who sighed.

 

“Perhaps once you’ve settled in,” Obi-Wan replied. “But for now we should finish the tour of the Temple and find somewhere for your mother before it gets too late.” Anakin reluctantly left the room behind and latched onto his mother at the reminder that she would be leaving.

 

Obi-Wan had been told by Qui-Gon in the previous timeline just how Anakin and Shmi’s separation on Tatooine had gone – Anakin had been unable to resist turning and running back to his mother, wishing not to part and being reassured that they would see each other again. And Padmé had told Obi-Wan years later that the next time Anakin had seen his mother she had died in his arms and he had slaughtered the people who were responsible for her death without mercy.

 

Looking down at this five-year-old boy who glowed like a star holding back his tears as he hugged his mother goodbye seemed incomparable to the tortured young man that Anakin had grown to be. Obi-Wan wondered yet again just how he’d missed it – he had known Anakin was overemotional and prone to resorting to violence, but when they were alone, when they relaxed after a difficult mission… Anakin had been nothing less than what he was now.

 

Beautiful within the Force, shining and _happy_ , content with his lot in life with Obi-Wan on the battlefield and Padmé at home; content to let everything drip away as he allowed Obi-Wan to take care of him, and Obi-Wan had never for a second doubted that those moments showed who Anakin truly was.

 

Even now with so many years of hindsight Obi-Wan couldn’t believe that had been a lie. Sidious had used Anakin’s strongest emotion – his love – and turned it against them all. His anger and fear had been strong, but his _love_ was strongest, and Sidious had twisted that until Anakin could no longer rationally and objectively think about his situation like the Jedi had taught him, like _Obi-Wan_ had taught him. He had been overruled entirely by his emotions, and the Dark Side had taken him.

 

Qui-Gon offered to stay with Anakin and help him get settled in with the other younglings. Obi-Wan pressed a kiss to his head and promised to see him after they had found Shmi somewhere to stay, and they parted ways.

 

“You don’t have to do this, Obi-Wan, really,” she insisted as they headed to the Temple garage where the speeders were kept. “I’m sure that I am more than capable of finding somewhere on my own, especially with the money you’ve given me.”

 

Obi-Wan smiled. “I’m sure you are, Shmi, but that doesn’t mean you have to do it alone. I know Coruscant, and your health and safety means a lot to both Anakin and myself. I can show you where to convert the wupiupi into credits and help you find somewhere to rent. There should be plenty of places in need of employees too, and I would prefer to have you settled as quickly as possible.”

 

Despite the fact that Obi-Wan was around double Shmi’s age, he still flushed when she turned a very knowing look on him.

 

“I don’t doubt that you would do this for anyone in need, Master Jedi,” she began, “but I get the feeling that you are going out of your way because of my son and how you feel about each other.”

 

Obi-Wan blushed harder, cleared his throat, and looked pointedly away. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he deflected. A gently smiling Shmi pulled him to a stop.

 

“That isn’t a criticism, Obi-Wan,” she murmured, keeping her voice low in the busy hangar. “I don’t need to be a Jedi to see how strongly the two of you feel about each other. I know that you love my son, and I know that he loves you back just as much despite his lack of memories. You told me that he was your padawan for over ten years, but I get the feeling that your relationship changed a little after that. I have no doubts that you are good for my son, and that you will take care of him no matter what.”

 

He didn’t quite know what to say to that, and breathed through the emotions that welled up in his chest, blinking at the blur that began in his eyes.

 

“I love your son,” he replied, voice a little shaky. He had never met Shmi Skywalker and now had the opportunity to tell her what he had always wished he could. “I all but raised him once he came to the Jedi, and watched him grow into a young man that I could be so proud of. We were romantic when he was knighted, yes, but I am not expecting anything of your son that he does not wish to give. He is, quite frankly, everything to me.”

 

In response, Shmi took one of his hands in hers and raised her other to cup Obi-Wan’s face, running a thumb along his cheekbone.

 

“You’ll be good for him,” Shmi said. “He’ll grow up to be impulsive and reckless, and you’re restrained enough to reign him in when he needs to be, but wise enough to know when to let him run wild. I dearly hope that when he’s older, if he is to choose anyone to spend his life with, that it will be you.”

 

Obi-Wan exhaled a heavy, shaky breath and ignored his damp eyelashes.

 

“Thank you,” was all he could say to that. “Now I believe we need to get moving. Sunset will be in a few hours and I would like to get you settled.”

 

Shmi raised a brow at the swift subject change but didn’t say anything about it, and let Obi-Wan direct them both over to the speeders.

 

With the wupiupi converted to credits, Shmi had enough money to make a down payment on a small apartment only a short drive away from the Temple. It was in the midst of an area rife with restaurants and diners, and many of them required kitchen hands. Obi-Wan could vouch as a Jedi for her work ethic and self-discipline, and before the end of the day she had not just a home, but also a job and a wardrobe to start out her new life on Coruscant.

 

“I cannot thank you enough,” she said at her doorstep, wrapping Obi-Wan in her arms. Obi-Wan struggled to keep the embrace casual as he felt what it was to be hugged by a mother for the first time he could remember.

 

“It was the least I could do,” Obi-Wan said. “Anakin is better with you here than back on Tatooine, and you deserve to live your life free of slavery.”

 

They parted with a promise that Obi-Wan would bring Anakin to see her later, considering that earlier that day had been the first and last time she was allowed into the Temple. On Obi-Wan’s return, he found Anakin regaling the other initiates about his stories from Tatooine, and Obi-Wan was proud that he didn’t even have to tell Anakin to keep quiet about the situation with their memories, because Anakin had always been sensible about things like that, even when he was utterly reckless in other ways.

 

All of the children, even the eldest ones, were listening to Anakin with great interest. It wasn’t too often that younglings at Anakin’s age would arrive at the Temple, so hearing stories of life outside of Coruscant was always a source of entertainment to them.

 

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin exclaimed with just as much enthusiasm as he had on Tatooine, breaking away from the other initiates to all but run up to him. “Is Mom okay?”

 

Obi-Wan crouched down to be at Anakin’s height again and smiled. “She’s fine, Ani. I can take you to see her once you’ve settled in. I see that you’re already making new friends.” Anakin beamed happily, and as much as he was excited to see Obi-Wan again, it wasn’t long before he was back amongst his new friends, chatting happily away and learning all that he could from them. Content that he was safe, Obi-Wan bade him goodnight, and made his way back to his quarters.

 

As he had been knighted, he was no longer sharing with Qui-Gon, but he’d managed to get a room only a few doors down from him. He was far too exhausted from the days’ events to head over to Qui-Gon for a cup of tea, so just flicked him a message before collapsing fully dressed onto his bed.

 

 

**_I HATE YOU!_ **

****

 

 

Obi-Wan heaved in a breath and sat bolt upright in his bed, the late evening sun having descended entirely, the night sky dark enough that he knew it was well into the small hours of the morning. His chest was covered in sweat, and it had been years since he’d had a nightmare about Mustafar, about the man he loved trying to kill him, about leaving half his soul on the banks of lava to burn.

 

Gathering himself together, Obi-Wan stripped off his shirt and replaced it with a clean one, desperately trying to get his shaking hands to stop, seeing Anakin’s sickly yellow eyes burning in his vision every time he blinked. He wanted to throw up, he wanted to scream, he wanted to know why after so long that vision should haunt him again when it had no reason to.

 

Swallowing down bile, Obi-Wan lay back down in his bed, staring at his ceiling, trying to center himself through the Force. Those fears were no longer justified, Anakin would _not_ be going down the path again, or Obi-Wan would die trying.

 

But a part of himself whispered _what if it’s inevitable_. A part that he just couldn’t ignore.

 

Distracted by the sudden sound that came from the main room of his quarters, Obi-Wan recognized it as the sound of his front door opening. It didn’t worry Obi-Wan though, because in seconds all his questions were answered when his bedroom door opened to reveal Anakin clad in his sleepwear, rubbing an eye and looking worried.

 

“Are you okay, Obi-Wan?” he asked, voice quiet in the silence.

 

“How did you get in here?” Obi-Wan countered, and Anakin looked down bashfully and tugged on the hem of his shirt.

 

“I just… followed you. I woke up and I could feel that you were scared and so I came to find you. And your door lock is really easy to hack into,” Anakin whispered. “Were you having a nightmare?”

 

Obi-Wan smiled and beckoned the boy into the room. “I was,” he admitted. “But I’m glad that you’re here. Even though you should _not_ be making this a habit. Initiates are not allowed to be sneaking around the Temple after dark.”

 

He didn’t stop Anakin as the five-year-old climbed up into the bed next to Obi-Wan and huddled down next to him, reaching a small hand out to grab onto Obi-Wan’s shirt.

 

“I’ll make sure you’re okay,” Anakin murmured. Absolutely melting, Obi-Wan pressed a kiss to Anakin’s forehead and didn’t have the heart to send Anakin back to his own quarters.

 

“I’ll only allow this once, Anakin, because it’s your first night here,” Obi-Wan indulged. “But thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Anakin smiled, and then settled down to sleep. Within minutes, Obi-Wan was dropping off too.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll I'm such trash I literally just came up with this chapter out of nothing and I've been distracted by wanting to write a Sith!/Dark Jedi!Obi-Wan AU (I 100% blame imaginarykat, lilyconrad and glare). Hope this is okay :) Thank you so much for all of your love and support, the prequels fandom is literally the best out of every single one I've been a part of on here. Love you all xoxo
> 
> Next chapter might be a little late considering end of semester is here and I have two essays and 12k to write for my papers oops.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan drops the mic with Mace and Yoda, spars Qui-Gon, and does a bit of thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello and welcome to whose fic is it anyway where update schedule's made up and the word count doesn't matter
> 
> also, a reader has pointed out to me that i haven't quite made it obvious enough that i have borrowed quite a few plot beats from the magnificent re-entry series by flamethrower, which can be found [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/series/10129), and my fic is more of an AU of theirs. i have permission from the author to follow along with some of their fic and to then branch out into a divergent obiani fic, whereas theirs is quiobi. i have mentioned this right at chapter one but in case ya'll didn't know, here is the notice. also, please read that series, it's amazing!

* * *

 

The next day Obi-Wan retrieved the mess that was future-Threepio and dumped it into a corner in his quarters. He and Anakin fell into a routine where when the young boy had downtime from his schooling and training, he would come into Obi-Wan’s quarters to work on the droid. When Shmi got home from work, she would holo-call the two of them and Anakin would fill her in on her day and what he’d been learning.

 

Thankfully his constant influx of memories didn’t hamper the boy in any way. Anakin had described it as just knowing that last time he’d still been on Tatooine, but now he was on Coruscant. His memories didn’t cause any current confusion, and it was more a calm awareness of what he had done previously.

 

Yoda and Mace, amongst a few other Councilors, had already expressed some of their doubts to Obi-Wan about his and Anakin’s attachment to each other, which was already so strong despite Anakin’s young age, and would only grow stronger.

 

“Learn our ways, he must,” Yoda had said, pulling Obi-Wan aside. “To be free of attachment, and learn objectivity he must, or the pull of the Dark he may feel.” Mace had simply stood next to Yoda with his arms crossed, looking disapprovingly at Obi-Wan.

 

Obi-Wan had smiled serenely. “You must understand, Master Yoda, that is simply not possible for Anakin. At his age, he has already formed an attachment to his mother and to myself. As a slave, Anakin’s attachments were all that he had, and are so deeply embedded in his psyche that close to mind-wiping him, there will be no way he could possibly let them go,” he’d replied.

 

If Yoda could’ve pursed his non-existent lips at that point, he probably would have.

 

“Perhaps you should have explained this to us before we agreed to take him into our fold,” Mace had piped up.

 

“You were well aware of his attachments when you accepted him into the order, Mace,” Obi-Wan replied, folding his arms and remaining every inch the calm Jedi Master that he was, despite his sixteen-year-old stature. “When he is old enough for me to take him as my padawan, I will teach him to maintain the balance between his attachments and his reasoning, but I will not take them from him nor condemn him for having them. You decided to allow Anakin into the Jedi Order and as such you are responsible for his wellbeing, and as his situation is different from other younglings, you cannot expect to treat and teach him the same as you do the others. Or are you going to tell him that meditating and breathing deeply is going to magically cure his mood disorders?”

 

Yoda and Mace had nothing to say to that. With the final word, Obi-Wan had bowed and left them to their thoughts, hoping that the message would sink in. For an Order that was built on their compassion, understanding and knowledge, they were incredibly ignorant and stubborn at times and on certain issues. They certainly always had been with Anakin.

 

He and Qui-Gon had not been sent on any missions, which weren’t all too common in the pre-war days at the Temple. Obi-Wan had been assigned to teach Soresu with Depa, who had taken great joy in sparring with him again now that he had mastered the form; their fight far more complex than the one that had only happened a few weeks ago, and the younglings had looked on with visible awe. Obi-Wan still wanted to ask Mace about the vapaad, but wanted to wait until the situation with Anakin settled down a little.

 

Anakin had already made friends amongst his classmates and initiate clan, his infectious energy drawing in even the most stalwart and obedient of younglings, including the older ones. Anakin, as he had previously, was still struggling with the five daily meditations, but considering his young age that wasn’t a worry for anyone just yet – most initiates didn’t fully start to adapt until they were ten.

 

“When will you take him to see his mother?” Qui-Gon asked, waiting outside the training hall while the younglings filed out excitedly, practice ‘sabers packed away. Depa slid out of the hall with a proud smile and a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and then it was just the two of them.

 

“Soon,” Obi-Wan replied. “I want to give both he and Shmi enough time to settle into their respective lives and environments. The holo-calls are tiding them over for now, but perhaps this week.”

 

“What about his nightmares?” Qui-Gon asked, leading he and Obi-Wan down to the mess hall.

 

Obi-Wan sighed. “They come and go,” he said. “Now that he’s back here, surrounded by friends and Jedi, it’s a little easier for him. He doesn’t worry as much, and his meditation sessions have helped even if only subconsciously. He’s only woken up the other children a few times, and they’re much more understanding of it than I could have hoped. Last time Anakin skipped initiate training altogether and became my padawan right away, so he never really had the opportunity to make friends here. But as they are Jedi younglings, they are compassionate, and Anakin has told me that they’ll often talk with him until he can fall asleep again. If he can’t though… he still insists on coming to find me.”

 

Qui-Gon laughed at whatever disgruntled yet fond expression found itself onto Obi-Wan’s face at that. “I thought you told me that you’d only allow him it the once?”

 

“Yes, well, that boy is stubborn, even at five,” Obi-Wan sighed, unable to keep the smile off his face. He’d deny to anyone with sheer Jedi disapproval that he kind of liked being looked after and sought out for comfort, even if the person coming to him was his five-year-old future padawan. Anakin had no qualms about sneaking out of the initiates’ quarters, stealthing his way through the Temple and breaking into Obi-Wan’s room to either tinker with future-Threepio until he could sleep or climbing into Obi-Wan’s bed for comfort.

 

Obi-Wan didn’t have the heart to deny him that, even though he had _told_ Anakin that he’d only allow it the one time. It didn’t help that the boy was so open in his adoration for Obi-Wan – every time he would pass the initiates quarters, Anakin would call his name like he did on Tatooine and run into his arms, and then drag Obi-Wan inside to start babbling away to his new friends about anything that he remembered, or ask Obi-Wan to tell them stories.

 

“I had a thought, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon then said, swiftly changing the subject. “I would like to see how improved you are with your ‘saber – would you spar with me this afternoon?” Obi-Wan paused in the hallway and looked at his ex-master, feet nearly stumbling beneath him. Out of all the requests that Qui-Gon could have made of him, sparring would’ve been the last thing on Obi-Wan’s mind that he would ask for.

 

“Of course,” Obi-Wan replied. “Are you curious from the perspective of my master, my friend, or a Jedi?”

 

Qui-Gon grinned slyly, folding his hands into the sleeves of his robes. “Shall I answer all the above?”

 

“Alright,” Obi-Wan agreed, fighting to keep his smile hidden. “Two hours in the training salle, I still have a few errands I need to run. You’d best spend that time limbering up, old man,” he teased. Qui-Gon’s jaw twitched at the words and so did his hand, obviously wishing that Obi-Wan still had his padawan braid so he could yank it in retribution.

 

“You’ll pay for that, Obi-Wan,” he vowed.

 

“Just getting you into the right headspace, Master,” Obi-Wan laughed. “See you soon.”

 

The two hours came and went far too quickly for Obi-Wan’s liking, both eager to spar against his ex-master in a way he’d never been able or allowed to, and also a little hesitant. Apparently someone (that someone most likely being Qui-Gon himself) had let it slip that the two of them would be sparring – one of the most accomplished masters and his sixteen-year-old ex-padawan – as he training salle was more crowded than it would usually be for an afternoon such as that. Qui-Gon was waiting on the floor with a supremely innocent expression about it all that immediately set off alarm bells in Obi-Wan’s head, and he barely resisted the urge to cuff the man over the head.

 

“I suppose everyone just happened to want to train right now?” Obi-Wan said pointedly, shucking off his robe to fold it at the edge of the mat. Qui-Gon rose up from his meditative position on the floor and gave Obi-Wan a positively Anakin-esque grin.

 

“Of course,” he replied.

 

“I wouldn’t believe that you of all people would want an audience to watch your failure,” Obi-Wan responded to the general disbelief and entertainment of those within earshot. It seemed that at least half the Council had been curious enough to show up, along with quite a selection of knights, padawans and younglings – including Anakin and those from his clan. Anakin had just so happened to seat himself next to Mace, who had his arms folded and was looking very uncomfortable next to the excitable youth, who was periodically calling out Obi-Wan’s name.

 

“Me of all people?” Qui-Gon responded, not taking the bait, as the two of them fell into their stretches.

 

“You’re a very proud man, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said, executing a neat stretch that turned a back-bridge into a flip that landed him elegantly on his feet, preening a little. “You’d hate to see all of these people watch you lose to a sixteen-year-old.” He barely held back his laugh at Qui-Gon’s expression, and a few of the Jedi within earshot let out low impressed sounds.

 

“I’d think it would be more embarrassing for the youngest Jedi to be knighted to lose to his _old_ master,” Qui-Gon countered. “After all, everyone is expecting great things from you, Obi-Wan. You’ve made history in the Order.”

 

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but laugh at that, enjoying the good-natured ribbing.

 

“I guess we’ll see,” he responded. The noise from their observers eventually died down as they went silent with anticipation, and Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon finished up their stretches. The silence was broken by Anakin cheering Obi-Wan’s name, which made him laugh but made Mace purse his lips and sit up even stiffer. Clearly he was rooting for Qui-Gon.

 

Obi-Wan fell into Soresu stance while Qui-Gon readied himself in Ataru. As a padawan, Obi-Wan hadn’t been a fan of Soresu, and had followed in Qui-Gon’s footsteps in learning the offensive, fast-paced form of Ataru, along with being drilled in Djem So. Despite the fact that Obi-Wan had been teaching the third form with Depa, it still seemed to surprise Qui-Gon at his choice in combat form. Obi-Wan still maintained that an unbreakable defense was the best offense, and that the aggressive fourth form hadn’t helped either of them on Naboo when Maul had cut his way through Qui-Gon’s defenses so easily.

 

Anakin, when he had been old enough to learn more than the first two forms, had taken a liking to Soresu but had always been frustrated with the lack of attacking through the form, and had never held the patience that Obi-Wan had developed after his master’s death. Obi-Wan had pushed Anakin into Ataru to pick up some offensive skills, and then brought it all together in the two fifth forms – Djem So and Shien. Anakin had enjoyed the thorough mix of hard defense and quick, aggressive counter-attacks that formed the basis of the form.

 

Obi-Wan, however, still maintained that Soresu was the best form a Jedi could have. Where there often seemed an overwhelming need to aggressively strike, there was also an opportunity to remain on the defensive until an opening came about – one just had to patiently wait for the Force to reveal it.

 

This therefore meant that Obi-Wan was used to dueling with friends and enemies with overwhelming aggressive techniques, but Qui-Gon was unused to Obi-Wan’s new defensive technique which he had perfected over decades – a technique that many considered when mastered, rendered the Jedi using it virtually untouchable.

 

As homage to their various chosen forms, Qui-Gon moved first, and their duel began. Qui-Gon’s age certainly did not provide a disadvantage to his technique – he wasn’t as strong as, for example, Anakin had been, but he was fast and practiced, and knew his form as well as Obi-Wan knew his.

 

As expected, Obi-Wan was straight on the defensive, deflecting every blow that Qui-Gon sent his way with practiced ease, instinct guiding his movements as the Force showed him where each strike would land a millisecond before it would hit. Coupled with the fact that he _knew_ how his ex-master fought, Obi-Wan’s defense was solid and seemingly impenetrable – perfect third form technique.

 

Qui-Gon backed Obi-Wan up across the room, looking to press his advantage. Obi-Wan, waiting for a slip in Qui-Gon’s defense, found one and slid past, grazing Qui-Gon on his side with their powered-down ‘sabers. Qui-Gon had to whirl around to stop Obi-Wan’s next blow, and then Obi-Wan was firmly on the offensive, his patience having paid off. Qui-Gon was always eager to get things done quickly and was confident in his own abilities. Most of the time that paid off – other times, like against Maul, it did not.

 

Taking inspiration from that particular fight, something that made Obi-Wan feel a little sick but also good practice for Qui-Gon, he slipped into what he had figured out of the Vapaad, extrapolated from his memories of dueling Maul and Mace. Where Soresu was the perfect encapsulation of Jedi patience and non-aggressive philosophy, the Vapaad was a wild and dangerous form that made Shien and Ataru look like child’s play, a form that forced the user to straddle the Light and Dark sides as they harnessed their inner ferocity to attack with such speed and strength that it was almost impossible to keep up any form of defense.

 

Qui-Gon was wildly unprepared, just as he had been with Maul. The Force coalesced around Obi-Wan like a blanket of ozone, thick and sparking like lightning within storm clouds. He felt wild and uncontainable, unstoppable and vicious, and this was why Mace had only ever taught the technique to his ex-padawan – the pure _temptation_ of the Dark side was nearly overpowering, it called to the user that falling would make them just that much more powerful. Obi-Wan had given into that call, just once, and had taken down Maul with it.

 

But he knew better now – that power was intense, but fleeting, and ruined everything it touched.

 

Obi-Wan pulled back into Shii-Cho to center himself, and the sudden change in form threw Qui-Gon just long enough for Obi-Wan to hook a foot beneath his ankle and floor his ex-master, ‘saber at his throat.

 

But Qui-Gon wasn’t a Jedi Master for nothing, and almost simultaneously raised his ‘saber, pointing it straight at Obi-Wan’s stomach, so close he could feel the low-powered heat through his robes. Despite Obi-Wan’s victory, they were technically at a stalemate, and the training salle burst into cheering and excited murmuring. The two of them powered off their lightsabers, and Obi-Wan pulled Qui-Gon upright just as a small figure slammed into Obi-Wan’s side, arms wrapped around his hips.

 

“That was _wizard_ , Master!” Anakin crowed. Obi-Wan, still thrumming with adrenalin from the fight and his fleeting contact with the Dark, hauled Anakin up onto his shoulders with a laugh. Anakin buried his fingers in Obi-Wan’s hair for balance and waved over at his friends, who were staring at the three of them in awe.

 

Qui-Gon stepped closer after hooking his ‘saber back onto his belt. “Was that what I thought it was, Obi-Wan?” he asked curiously.

 

“What did you think it was, Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan replied innocently.

 

Qui-Gon raised his brows in a way that said he was displeased with Obi-Wan’s attempt at stalling the inevitable conversation. “I could have sworn that you entered the Vapaad form, padawan, but perhaps I was mistaken,” he said.

 

Obi-Wan felt the presence behind him approximately half a second before the man spoke up.

 

“I was thinking the same thing, Knight Kenobi,” Mace said, voice laced with that stern, unmoving tone he only ever used when he was angry, suspicious or impressed. Obi-Wan turned around, trying very hard to keep the sheepish padawan expression off his face, telling himself that he was a Jedi Master who had seen the fall of everything and would _not_ be intimidated by Mace Windu. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded.

 

“It was the best I could extrapolate,” Obi-Wan said carefully. “Considering that you only ever taught Depa, I was unable to learn it formally from you. However, after… certain events… I thought it prudent to make myself as familiar with it as possible. Both in offense and defense of it.”

 

Mace raised an eyebrow in a way that had Obi-Wan instinctively feeling chastised. “That is incredibly dangerous, Obi-Wan. The Vapaad is not a form to attempt to learn on one’s own.”

 

“I am aware of this, Mace,” Obi-Wan replied calmly. “However, you were not exactly around to teach it to me after you refused the first time, and it was necessary to my survival.”

 

Mace closed his mouth against his own rebuttal at Obi-Wan’s admission. He had never told the Council, or anyone other than Qui-Gon, exactly what the future entailed for the Order other than the fact that they had lost the war with the Sith. Obi-Wan had never told them that out of everyone in the room, the only Jedi who survived Order 66 and the Purge was himself and the boy sitting on his shoulders. The rest of them were all casualties of war.

 

He didn’t have to say any of that for his meaning to come through in the silence following his words. Mace studied him for a few moments, and Obi-Wan had absolutely no idea what was going through his friend’s head.

 

“I see,” Mace eventually said. “In any case, I must commend you on your masterful control of the Vapaad, even if you have not mastered the form. That, more than anything, shows me that you will be able to control yourself when using it. It would be irresponsible of me not to formally teach it to you now, especially when you already know the basics.”

 

Obi-Wan bowed his head, or as well as he could with a five-year-old sitting upon his shoulders. “I would be grateful, Mace.”

 

With a brisk nod at both of them, Mace turned and left the training salle. Qui-Gon wiggled his brows excitedly at Obi-Wan, which looked absolutely ridiculous, and he burst into laughter just as Depa approached them in the wake of her ex-master.

 

“Soresu and the Vapaad, Obi-Wan?” she smiled, eyes glittering. “I am glad to see that you are so obviously following in my footsteps. And you are following them well.” Obi-Wan laughed at this and nodded his head.

 

“Of course, Depa, I have great respect for you,” he replied. “What better respect is there than imitation?” Depa rolled her eyes and congratulated them both on a good fight, then followed Mace’s trail out of the room.

 

That seemed to be all that was required before other Jedi of all ranks came to congratulate them too, both on Obi-Wan’s improved skill and on Qui-Gon’s masterful form and quick thinking. By the time that the Jedi all left the training room, including Anakin who had reluctantly left with his peers, it was just Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon remaining. Obi-Wan’s hands were still shaking from the fight, having forgotten the adrenalin and oneness with the Force that came with a good duel.

 

“Are you alright, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked for what must’ve been the hundredth time in the last few weeks.

 

“Fine, Qui-Gon,” he replied. “Looks like you didn’t invite all these people to witness your failure after all.” Qui-Gon laughed and threw his arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders, drawing the two of them out of the training grounds and into the Temple proper.

 

It didn’t matter how hard Obi-Wan tried to re-center himself and let his emotions flow into the Force, the following hours yielded nothing for Obi-Wan except frustration, shaking hands, and his thoughts heading to darker places. It wasn’t until after dinner that he donned his robe and left the Temple through the underbelly, weaving his way through Coruscant without a destination in mind, letting the Force take him where it willed.

 

It was late enough for the skies to be pitch black but still early enough that speeders and night-lovers were around, and Obi-Wan found himself standing on the edge of a building, looking down at the city below him. The city that sprawled on for miles, so huge that it nearly covered the entire planet; the core of the galaxy, the center around which all orbited.

 

Looking ahead, Obi-Wan blinked in shock at what he saw. He was staring right into the office of Senator Palpatine, who was diligently working away on something at his desk. Currently in the timeline, Palpatine was considered to be a nobody senator from Naboo, who was unambitious enough or too naïve to have passed up multiple opportunities to gain more power within the Senate. He was trusted, and barely a blip on anybody’s radar.

 

It probably wouldn’t even make the front news if he died tonight.

 

A bullet to the head, a lightsaber through his back, poison in his cup, a very long fall – some methods would be more sensational than others, but it wouldn’t be too difficult to replace the senator, and he would be forgotten rather quickly by all who knew him.

 

It would not be the Jedi way, but Obi-Wan hadn’t felt like a Jedi in a long time.

 

Here, standing upon the precipice, hiding his presence enough that he would feel like a Force-null to any Force user, Obi-Wan was exactly where the Force willed him to be. He questioned it and asked what it wished, yet received nothing but what seemed like a cosmic shrug: do what you will. Right now, Obi-Wan had an opportunity to defy the Jedi Code and assassinate a man who, to the public, had done no wrong. If anyone found out, it would seem that Obi-Wan had assassinated an innocent man – and if he explained the man’s actions, there would be little solid evidence to back it up. Obi-Wan would be judge, jury and executioner for a man whose actions may or may not take place in the future – sentencing him for something the man had not yet done.

 

Yet this was the man who was currently Sith apprentice under Plagueis, who was contently biding his time until he could engineer his way up to being Supreme Chancellor, until he could destroy the Order and create his Empire, who twisted Anakin into Darth Vader, into someone Obi-Wan could not recognize nor love.

 

Morally, with Obi-Wan’s hindsight, it would be right to kill him right here, right now.

 

But of course, then Darth Plagueis, the current master, would be the wild card instead of Sidious, who was currently utterly predictable. Obi-Wan knew nothing about Sidious’ master, only that he must have died sometime around the Naboo Crisis, as the Sith subscribed to the rule of two, and Maul had been revealed as the apprentice then.

 

No. Best to let events unfold and allow Sidious to deal with his master. Obi-Wan could handle Maul, could handle Dooku, could handle Grievous, could handle Ventress. Sidious was cunning enough to have fallbacks should he die now, and Obi-Wan wasn’t about to throw the future he could predict away.

 

Best to wait until Sidious became the master, until Obi-Wan could in turn engineer the man’s revelation and fall. The Jedi Order may have been dead to Obi-Wan for twenty years, but it was alive now, and Obi-Wan knew more than anyone that when fighting a war with death and destruction on both sides, the only way to remain above your enemy was to keep your morals.

 

For without morals, the Jedi were but Sith in the making.

 

Exhaling heavily, Obi-Wan turned from Palpatine’s office and slid back into the Coruscant shadows, content to let himself follow fate for now.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> talk to me about bpd!adhd!anakin because i love my son a lot and the jedi order is a piece of shit lbr i want to dropkick yoda into the fucking sun
> 
> also can you tell im a slut for lightsaber combat


	8. IMPORTANT UPDATE

Hi guys, I have something important to say.

 

So a while ago, when this fic was just a little idea in my head, I knew that I wanted to write some sort of time-travel Obi/Ani fic. I'd recently been reading the brilliant [Re-Entry](http://archiveofourown.org/series/10129) series by flamethrower on here and loved it to pieces, and asked the author if I could borrow the idea of their fic to write my own Obi/Ani one. I received their permission to do that and went ahead with writing All Over Again.

 

I have been very vocal from the beginning that this had elements borrowed from that series, and while I intended the beginning plot beats to be the same as Waking Dream (the first Re-Entry fic) - the way Obi-Wan received his memories, his knighting, he and Qui-Gon going to Tatooine to retrieve both Shmi and Anakin - after that is where I planned for my fic to diverge completely. I made it clear again in the newest chapter update that yes, I was borrowing elements from Re-Entry, of which I have only an amazing amount of respect for the author who spent so long writing such a brilliant and amazing series. All I wanted to do with this fic was to make, sort of, an AU of their series but with Obi/Ani as opposed to Qui/Obi. I never meant to plagiarise or have this seen as theft or anything, since I though the author would be okay with it, and only the first seven chapters would follow their plot beats.

 

As it turns out, the author is not okay with this, and is in fact deeply upset and frankly quite distraught over this. Though I have a difference of opinion with them, and personally if someone asked permission to write something similar to my big fic - lets say Emrys Ascending - and credited me, I would be okay with it. I understand that we all think differently however and what one person is happy with is something someone else isn't happy with.

 

I'd like to tell flamethrower that I am deeply sorry for all the pain and hurt I have caused them, I never intended to plagiarise, and I never intended to pass off the first couple plot beats of the story as my own. I'm of the belief that in writing, imitation is the highest form of flattery, and didn't believe it was plagiarism as I credited them and have made it well known that I think their series is absolutely epic and amazing, and thought that they had given me blanket permission to take their idea and write something a little different. Clearly I was wrong, and again, I'm very sorry for all the pain caused.

 

As seen above I have strike-throughed everything in the previous chapters, not deleting it if only so this explanation can get through to my readers who are awaiting the next chapter update. If it's okay with flamethrower, I'd like to update in a separate fic after this something I wrote ten years ahead in my timeline that is wholly Obi/Ani action and while has the premise of them having regained their memories, is absolutely 100% not anything inspired, borrowed or taken from their fic, but I won't be continuing this series on after that.

 

Again, I'm so sorry for any hurt that I caused that I didn't intend to, and I will immediately stop writing and updating this fic.

 

If you're a fan of Qui/Obi I am  **definitely** still gonna send you over towards the Re-Entry series, because it is amazing and the author's baby, I enjoyed it a LOT and the author does deserve credit for the fantastic idea which I borrowed. I don't want there to be any ill-will between any of us here in the Prequels fandom considering that there's fuck all of us anyway.

 

 **Edit 29/10/16: Guys, please do NOT go after flamethrower!** I appreciate your defense of me in this weird situation and your love for the fic, but the author has said that I am "initializing [my] fanbase to come after [them]?" and I really don't want this situation to get out of hand. Of course I want to defend myself because I loved writing this fic, want to keep going, and I adore their series and the hard work they've put into it. I will say that my initial message to the author was this:

 

 

 

I took this as permission to use their premise and fic to set up my own because it was a time travel idea that I really loved. There has definitely been some miscommunication, and the author has been aware of my fanfic and expressed their views on it since September 30th, where they asked someone to report this. I have never had direct contact with the author regarding this situation, and as of yesterday I did send them a few messages on tumblr that as of yet they haven't replied to. This is a huge misunderstanding, I never intended any plagiarism, and I wish that we had just discussed this before they had retracted their statement - clearly the permission they gave me for my fic was not what I was asking? I don't know. But, guys, I appreciate the support but please don't message them and make this bigger than it has to be.

 

 **EDIT 24/02/17:** The other writer still hasn't contacted me about the situation. I'm currently working on my Fantastic Beasts fic so I don't want to re-start this one until I've finished with that. However please do subscribe to this fic as when I've finished that I'll try and resolve it with the author. Either way I really want to continue writing this for y'all and will do so.

 

Lots of love,

tricksterity

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Means to an End](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12179424) by [FamRoyalty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FamRoyalty/pseuds/FamRoyalty)




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